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THE PICCOLOMINI 
THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 
WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


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Che Piecolomini 
The Meath of Wallenstein 
Wallensteiv’s Camp 


BY 


Friedrich Schiller 


Translated by 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge 


Edited by Nathan Haskell Dole 


Boston * Francis A. Niccolls 
& Company &# Publishers 


Evition De Lure 


This Edition is Limited to One Thousand Copies, 
of which this is copy 


IU es 


Copyright, 1902 
By Francis A. NIccoLts & Co, 


Colonial jress 
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, Mass.. U.S.A 


Preface 


“ WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP” possesses a sort of broad 
humour, and is not deficient in character; but to have 
translated it into prose, or into any other metre than 
that of the original, would have given a false idea both 
of its style and purport; to have translated it into the 
same metre would have been incompatible with a faith- 
ful adherence to the sense of the German from the 
comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; and 
it would have been unadvisable, from the incongruity 
of those lax verses with the present taste of the Eng- 
lish public. Schiller’s intention seems to have been 
merely to have prepared his reader for the tragedies 
by a lively picture of laxity of discipline and the 
mutinous dispositions of Wallenstein’s soldiery. It is 
not necessary as a preliminary explanation. 

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their 
idea of that author from the “ Robbers,’ and the 
“Cabal and Love,” plays in which the main interest 
is produced by the excitement of curiosity, and in 
which the curiosity is excited by terrible and extraor- 
dinary incident, will not have perused without some 
portion of disappointment the dramas which it has 
been my employment to translate. They should, how- 
ever, reflect that these are historical dramas taken 
from a popular German history; that we must, there- 
fore, judge of them in some measure with the feelings 
of Germans; or, by analogy, with the interest excited 
in us by similar dramas in our own language. Few, 


vil 


viii PREFACE 


I trust, would be rash or ignorant enough to compare 
Schiller with Shakespeare ; yet, merely as illustration, 
I would say that we should proceed to the perusal of 
“Wallenstein,” not from “Lear” or “Othello,” but 
from “Richard IL,’ or the three parts of “ Henry 
VI.” We scarcely expect rapidity in an historical 
drama; and many prolix speeches are pardoned from 
characters whose names and actions have formed the 
most amusing tales of our early life. On the other 
hand, there exist in these plays more individual beau- 
ties, more passages whose excellence will bear reflec- 
tion than in the former productions of Schiller. The 
description of the Astrological Tower, and the reflec- 
tions of the Young Lover, which follow it, form in the 
original a fine poem; and my translation must have 
been wretched indeed if it can have wholly over- 
clouded the beauties of the scene in the first act of 
the first play between Questenberg, Max., and Octavio 
Piccolomini. If we except the scene of the setting 
sun in the “ Robbers,” I know of no part in Schiller’s 
plays which equals the first scene of the fifth act of 
the concluding plays! It would be unbecoming in 
me to be more diffuse on this subject. A translator 
stands connected with the original author by a certain 
law of subordination which makes it more decorous to 
point out excellences than defects; indeed, he is not 
likely to be a fair judge of either. The pleasure or 
disgust from his own labour will mingle with the 
feelings that arise from an afterview of the original. 
Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign 
language which we understand, we are apt to attribute 
to it more excellence than it really possesses from our 
own pleasurable sense of difficulty overcome without 
effort. Translation of poetry into poetry is difficult, 
because the translator must give a brilliancy to his 
language without that warmth of original conception 
1Jn this edition, scene ili., act. v. 


PREFACE ix 


from which such brilliancy would follow of its own 
accord. But the translator of a living author is en- 
cumbered with additional inconveniences. If he render 
his original faithfully as to the sense of each passage, 
he must necessarily destroy a considerable portion of 
the spirit; if he endeavour to give a work executed 
according to laws of compensation he subjects himself 
to imputations of vanity or misrepresentation. I have 
thought it my duty to remain bound by the sense of 
my original with as few exceptions as the nature 
of the languages rendered possible. 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 


List of ilnicrrations 


PAGE 

THE GENERALS OF WALLENSTEIN BEFORE THE 
BANQUET (See page 100) . . : Frontispiece 
BANQUET OF WALLENSTEIN’S GENERALS . : oS 
“T DEDICATE YOUR SOULS TO VENGEANCE” : Le Nata 
THEKLA AND THE SWEDISH COURIER A , myo 
«T THINK TO MAKE A LONG SLEEP OF IT” 4 . 356 


Piccolomini. 


Re 


+ 


GNCeRiccolomini 


DRAMATIS PERSON At 


WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the 
Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years’ War. 

OcTAVIO PIccoLoMINI, Lieutenant-General. 

Max. Piccotomrnt, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuiras- 
siers. 

Count Terzky, the Commander of several Regiments, and 
Brother-in-law of Wallenstein. 

Ino, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein’s Confidant. 

IsoLaANnI, General of the Croats. 

Butter, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons. 


TIEFENBACH, 
Don MARADAS, 
GOETZ, 
KoLaTtTo, 


NEuMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aid-de-Camp to Terzky. 
Von QUESTENBERG, the War Commissioner, Imperial Envoy. 
BAPTISTA SENI, an Astrologer. 

DucHEss OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein. 
TuHEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. 

Tue Countess TERZKY, Sister of the Duchess. 

A CORNET. 

COLONELS and GENERALS (several). 

PaaxEs and ATTENDANTS belonging to Wallenstein. 
ATTENDANTS and Hosorsts belonging to Terzky. , 
MASTER OF THE CELLAR to Count Terzky. 

VALET DE CHAMBRE of Count Piccolomini. 


Generals under Wallenstein. 


The Piccolomini 


ACT I. 
ScENE I. 


An old Gothic Chamber in the Cowncil-house at Pilsen, 
decorated with Colours and other War Insignia. 


ILLO, with BUTLER and ISOLANI. 


ILLO. 


Ye have come too late — but ye are come! The dis- 
tance, 
Count Isolani, excuses your delay. 


ISOLANI. 


Add this too, that we come not empty-handed. 
_ At Donauwerth! it was reported to us, 
A Swedish caravan was on its way, 
Transporting a rich cargo of provision, 
Almost six hundred wagons. This my Croats 
Plunged down upon and seized, this weighty prize !— 
We bring it hither — 


1A town about twelve German miles northeast of Ulm. 
&: 


4 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Just in time to banquet 
The illustrious company assembled here. 


BUTLER. 
’Tis all alive! a stirring scene here! 


ISOLANI. 
Ay! 
The very churches are full of soldiers. 
[ Casts his eye round. 
And in the council-house, too, I observe, 
You're settled quite at home! Well, well! we soldiers 
Must shift and suit us in what way we can. 


ILLO. 


We have the colonels here of thirty regiments. 
You'll find Count Terzky here, and Tiefenbach, 
Kolatto, Goetz, Maradas, Hinnersam, 

The Piccolomini, both son and father — 

You'll meet with many an unexpected greeting 
From many an old friend and acquaintance. Only 
Gallas is wanting still, and Altringer. 


BUTLER. 
Expect not Gallas. 


ILLO (hesitating). 
How so? Do you know — 


ISOLANI (interrupting him). 
Max. Piccolomini here? O bring me to him. 
I see him yet (tis now ten years ago, 
We were engaged with Mansfeldt hard by Dessau), 
I see the youth, in my mind’s eye I see him, 


THE PICCOLOMINI 5 


Leap his black war-horse from the bridge adown, 
And t’ward his father, then in extreme peril, 
Beat up against the strong tide of the Elbe. 

The down was scarce upon his chin! I hear 
He has made good the promise of his youth, 
And the full hero now is finished in him. 


ILLO. 


You'll see him yet ere evening. He conducts 
The Duchess Friedland hither, and the princess ! 
From Carnthen.2— We expect them here at noon. 


BUTLER. 


Both wife and daughter does the duke call hither ? 
He crowds in visitants from all sides. 


ISOLANI. 
Hm! 

So much the better! I had framed my mind 
To hear of naught but warlike circumstance, 
Of marches and attacks, and batteries ; 
And lo! the duke provides, and something too 
Of gentler sort and lovely, should be present 
To feast our eyes. 


ILLO (who has been standing in the attitude of medita- 
tion, to BUTLER, whom he leads a little on one side). 


And how came you to know 
That the Count Gallas joins us not? 


BUTLER. 
Because 
He importuned me to remain behind. 


1The dukes in Germany being always reigning powers, their 
sons and daughters are entitled princes and princesses. 
2 Carinthia. 


6 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO (with warmth). 


And you? You hold out firmly! 
[Grasping his hand with affection. 
Noble Butler ! 


BUTLER. 


After the obligation which the duke 
Had laid so newly on me — 


ILLO. 


I had forgotten 
A pleasant duty — major-general, 
I wish you joy! 


ISOLANI. 


What, you mean, of this regiment ? 
I hear, too, that to make the gift still sweeter, 
The duke has given him the very same 
In which he first saw service, and since then 
Worked himself step by step, through each preferment, 
From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives 
A precedent of hope, a spur of action 
To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance 
An old deserving soldier makes his way. 


BUTLER. 


I am perplexed and doubtful whether or no 
I dare accept this your congratulation. 
The emperor has not yet confirmed the appointment. 


ISOLANI. 


Seize it, friend, seize it! The hand which in that post 
Placed you is strong enough to keep you there, 
Spite of the emperor and his ministers! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 7 


ILLO. 


Ay, if we would but so consider it !— 

If we would all of us consider it so! 

The emperor gives us nothing; from the duke 
Comes all — whate’er we hope, whate’er we have. 


ISOLANI (to ILLO). 


My noble brother! did I tell you how 

The duke will satisfy my creditors ? 

Will be himself my bankers for the future, 
Make me once more a creditable man ! 

And this is now the third time, think of that! 
This kingly-minded man has rescued me 
From absolute ruin and restored my honour. 


ILLO. 


Oh that his power but kept pace with his wishes ! 
Why, friend! he’d give the whole world to his soldiers. 
But at Vienna, brother !— here’s the grievance, — 
What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten 

His arm, and where they can to clip his pinions. 

Then these new dainty requisitions! these 

Which this same Questenberg brings hither! 


BUTLER. 
Ay! 
Those requisitions of the emperor — 
I too have heard about them; but I hope 
The duke will not draw back a single inch! 


ILLO. 


Not from his right most surely, unless first 
From office ! 


8 THE PICCOLOMINI 


BUTLER (shocked and confused). 


Know you aught then? You alarm me. 


ISOLANI (at the same time with BUTLER, and in a 
hurrying voice). 


We should be ruined, every one of us! 


TLLO. 


Yonder I see owr worthy friend} approaching 
With the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini. 


BUTLER (shaking his head significantly). 
I fear we shall not go hence as we came. 


Scene II. 
Enter OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI and QUESTENBERG. 


OCTAVIO (still in the distance). 


Ay! ah! more still! Still more new visitors! 
Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp, 
Which held at once so many heads of heroes. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Let none approach a camp of Friedland’s troops 
Who dares to think unworthily of war ; 

E’en I myself had nigh forgot its evils 

When I surveyed that lofty soul of order, 

By which, while it destroys the world — itself 
Maintains the greatness which itself created. 


1Spoken with a sneer. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 9 


OCTAVIO (approaching nearer). 
Welcome, Count Isolani! 


ISOLANI. 


My noble brother! 
Even now am I arrived; it has been else my duty — 


OCTAVIO. 


And Colonel Butler — trust me, I rejoice 
Thus to renew acquaintance with a man 
Whose worth and services I know and honour. 
See, see, my friend! 
There might we place at once before our eyes 
The sum of war’s whole trade and mystery — 
[Zo QUESTENBERG, presenting BUTLER and 
ISOLANI at the same time to hum. 
These two the total sum — strength and despatch. 


QUESTENBERG (¢0 OCTAVIO). 
And lo! betwixt them both, experienced prudence! 


OCTAVIO (presenting QUESTENBERG to BUTLER and 
ISOLANI). 


The Chamberlain and War-Commissioner Questenberg. 
The bearer of the emperor’s behests, 

The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers, 

We honour in this noble visitor. [ Unwersal silence. 


ILLO (moving toward QUESTENBERG). 


’Tis not the first time, noble minister, 
You have shown our camp this honour. 


QUESTENBERG. 
Once before 
I stood beside these colours. 


10 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Perchance too you remember where that was ; 

It was at Zn’im! in Moravia, where 

You did present yourself upon the part 

Of the emperor to supplicate our duke 

That he would straight assume the chief command. 


QUESTENBERG. 


To supplicate? Nay, bold general ! 
So far extended neither my commission 
(At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal. 


ILLO. 


Well, well, then — to compel him, if you choose. 
I can remember me right well, Count Tilly 

Had suffered total rout upon the Lech. 

Bavaria lay all open to the enemy, 

Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing 
Onwards into the very heart of Austria. 

At that time you and Werdenberg appeared 
Before our general, storming him with prayers, 
And menacing the emperor’s displeasure, 

Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness. 


ISOLANI (steps up to them). 


Yes, yes, ’tis comprehensible enough, 
Wherefore with your commission of to-day, 
You were not all too willing to remember 
Your former one. 

QUESTENBERG. 


Why not, Count Isolani ? 
No contradiction sure exists between them. 
It was the urgent business of that time 


1A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the highroad 
from Vienna to Prague. 


THE PICCOLOMINI ve 


To snatch Bavaria from her enemy’s hand ; 
And my commission of to-day instructs me 
To free her from her good friends and protectors. 


ILLO. 


A worthy office! After with our blood 

We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon, 
To be swept out of it is all our thanks, 

The sole reward of all our hard-won victories. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Unless that wretched land be doomed to suffer 
Only a change of evils, it must be 
Freed from the scourge alike of friend or foe. 


ILLO. 


What? °*Twas a favourable year; the boors 
Can answer fresh demands already. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Nay, 
If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds — 


ISOLANI. 


The war maintains the war. Are the boors ruined 
The emperor gains so many more new soldiers. 


QUESTENBERG. 
And is the poorer by even so many subjects. 


ISOLANI. 
Poh! we are all his subjects. 


12 THE PICCOLOMINI 


QUESTENBERG. 


Yet with a difference, general! The one fill 

With profitable industry the purse, 

The others are well skilled to empty it. 

The sword has made the emperor poor; the plough 
Must reinvigorate his resources. 


ISOLANI. 


Sure ! 
Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see 
[ Lxamining with his eye the dress and ornaments 
of QUESTENBERG. 
Good store of gold that still remains uncoined. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to hide 
Some little from the fingers of the Croats. 


ILLO. 


There! The Stawata and the Martinitz, 

On whom the emperor heaps his gifts and graces, 

To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians — 

Those minions of court favour, those court harpies, 

Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens 

Driven from their house and home— who reap no 
harvests 

Save in the general calamity — 

Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock 

The desolation of their country — these, 

Let these, and such as these, support the war, 

The fatal war, which they alone enkindled! 


BUTLER. 


And those state-parasites, who have their feet 
So constantly beneath the emperor’s table, 


THE PICCOLOMINI 13 


Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they 
Snap at it with dogs’ hunger — they, forsooth, 
Would pare the soldier’s bread and cross his reckoning! 


ISOLANI. 


My life long will it anger me to think, 

How when I went to court seven years ago, 
To see about new horses for our regiment, 
How from one antechamber to another 

They dragged me on and left me by the hour 
To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering 
Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither 
A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour 
That fell beneath their tables. And, at last, 
Whom should they send me but a Capuchin ! 
Straight I began to muster up my sins 

For absolution — but no such luck for me! 
This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom 
I was to treat concerning the army horses! 
And I was forced at last to quit the field, 
The business unaccomplished. Afterward 
The duke procured me in three days what I 
Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their way to 
us ! 
Too well I know we have still accounts to settle. 


ILLO. 


War is violent trade; one cannot always 
Finish one’s work by soft means; every trifle 
Must not be blackened into sacrilege. 

If we should wait till you, in solemn council, 
With due deliberation had selected 


14 THE PICCOLOMINI 


The smallest out of four and twenty evils, 

T faith we should wait long — 

“Dash! and through with it!” That’s the better 
watchword. 

Then after come what may come. ‘Tis’ man’s nature 

To make the best of a bad thing once past. 

A bitter and perplexed “ what shall I do?” 

Is worse to man than worst necessity. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Ay, doubtless, it is true; the duke does spare us 
The troublesome task of choosing. 


BUTLER. 


Yes, the duke 
Cares with a father’s feelings for his troops ; 
But how the emperor feels for us, we see. 


QUESTENBERG. 


His cares and feelings all ranks share alike, 
Nor will he offer one up to another. 


ISOLANI. 


And therefore thrusts he us into the deserts 
As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve 
His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home. 


QUESTENBERG (with a sneer). 


Count! this comparison you make, not I. 


ILLO. 


Why, were we all the court supposes us 
"Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 15 


QUESTENBERG (gravely). 


You have taken liberty — it was not given you, 
And therefore it becomes an urgent duty 
To rein it in with the curbs. 


ILLO. 
Expect to find a restive steed in us. 


QUESTENBERG. 
A. better rider may be found to rule it. 


ILLO. 
He only brooks the rider who has tamed him. 


QUESTENBERG. 
Ay, tame him once, and then a child may lead him. 


ILLO. 
The child, we know, is found for him already. 


QUESTENBERG. 
Be duty, sir, your study, not a name. 


BUTLER (who has stood aside with PICCOLOMINI, but 
with visrble interest in the conversation, advances). 


Sir president, the emperor has in Germany 

A splendid host assembled ; in this kingdom 
Full twenty thousand soldiers are cantoned, 
With sixteen thousand in Silesia; 

Ten regiments are posted on the Weser, 

The Rhine, and Main; in Swabia there are six, 
And in Bavaria twelve, to face the Swedes ; 
Without including in the account the garrisons 
Who on the frontiers hold the fortresses. 


16 THE PICCOLOMINI 


This vast and mighty host is all obedient 

To Friedland’s captains; and its brave commanders, 
Bred in one school, and nurtured with one milk, 
Are all excited by one heart and soul ; 
They are as strangers on the soil they tread, 
The service is their only house and home. 

No zeal inspires them for their country’s cause, 
For thousands like myself were born abroad ; 
Nor care they for the emperor, for one-half 
Deserting other service fled to ours, 

Indifferent what their banner, whether ’twere 
The Double Eagle, Lily, or the Lion. 

Yet one sole man can rein this fiery host 

By equal rule, by equal love and fear ; 

Blending the many-nationed whole in one; 

And like the lightning’s fires securely led 

Down the conducting rod, e’en thus his power 
Rules all the mass, from guarded post to post, 
From where the sentry hears the Baltic roar, 

Or views the fertile vales of the Adige, 

E’en to the body-guard, who holds his watch 
Within the precincts of the imperial palace ! 


QUESTENBERG. 
What’s the short meaning of this long harangue ? 


BUTLER, 


That the respect, the love, the confidence, 

Which makes us willing subjects of Duke Friedland, 
Are not to be transferred to the first comer 

That Austria’s court may please to send to us. 

We have not yet so readily forgotten 

How the command came into Friedland’s hands. 
Was it, forsooth, the emperor’s majesty 

That gave the army ready to his hand, 

And only sought a leader for it? No. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 17 


The army then had no existence. He, 
Friedland, it was who called it into being, 
And gave it to his sovereign — but receiving 
No army at his hand; nor did the emperor 
Give Wallenstein to us as general. No, 

It was from Wallenstein we first received 
The emperor as our master and our sovereign 
And he, he only, binds us to our banners! 


OCTAVIO (interposing and addressing QUESTENBERG). 
My noble friend, 


This is no more than a remembrancing 
That you are now in camp, and among warriors! 
The soldier’s boldness constitutes his freedom. 
Could he act daringly, unless he dared 
Talk even so? One runs into the other. 
The boldness of this worthy officer, 
[Pointing to BUTLER. 
Which now is but mistaken in its mark, 
Preserved, when naught but boldness could preserve it, 
To the emperor, his capital city, Prague, 
In a most formidable mutiny 
Of the whole garrison. [Military music at a distance. 
Hah! here they come! 


ILLO. 


The sentries are saluting them: this signal 
Announces the arrival of the duchess. 


OCTAVIO (¢0 QUESTENBERG). 


Then my son Max., too, has returned. *Twas he 
Fetched and attended them from Carnthen hither. 


| ISOLANI (to ILLO). 
Shall we not go in company to greet them ? 


18 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Well, let us go — Ho! Colonel Butler, come. 
[Zo OcTAVIO. 
You'll not forget that yet ere noon we meet 
The noble envoy at the general’s palace. 
[Eaewnt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO. 


ScENE IIL. 
QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO. 


QUESTENBERG (with signs of aversion and astonishment). 


What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio ! 
What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance ! 
And were this spirit universal — 


OCTAVIO. 


Hm ! 
You are now acquainted with three-fourths of the army. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Where must we seek, then, for a second host 

To have the custody of this? That Ilo 

Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then 
This Butler, too — he cannot even conceal 

The passionate workings of his ill intentions. 


OCTAVIO. 


Quickness of temper — irritated pride ; 

"Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler. 
I know a spell that will soon dispossess 

The evil spirit in him. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 19 


QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet). 


Friend, friend ! 
O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered 
Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There 
We saw it only with a courtier’s eyes, 
Eyes dazzled by the splendour of the throne. 
We had not seen the war-chief, the commander, 
The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here, 
"Tis quite another thing. 
Here is no emperor more — the duke is emperor. 
Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend ! 
This walk which you have ta’en me through the camp 
Strikes my hopes prostrate. 


OCTAVIO. 


Now you see yourself 
Of what a perilous kind the office is, 
Which you deliver to me from the court. 
The least suspicion of the general 
Costs me my freedom and my life, and would 
But hasten his most desperate enterprise. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted 

This madman with the sword, and placed such power 
In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse, 

Flatly refuse to obey the imperial orders. 

Friend, he can do it, and what he can, he will. 

And then the impunity of his defiance — 

Oh! what a proclamation of our weakness! 


OCTAVIO. 


D’ye think, too, he has brought his wife and daughter 
Without a purpose hither? Here in camp! 
And at the very point of time in which 


20 THE PICCOLOMINI 


We're arming for the war? That he has taken 
These, the last pledges of his loyalty, 

Away from out the emperor’s dominions — 
This is no doubtful token of the nearness 

Of some eruption. 


QUESTENBERG. 


How shall we hold footing 
Beneath this tempest, which collects itself 
And threats us from all quarters? The enemy 
Of the empire on our borders, now already 
The master of the Danube, and still farther, 
And farther still, extending every hour! 
In our interior the alarum-bells 
Of insurrection — peasantry in arms — 
All orders discontented — and the army, 
Just in the moment of our expectation 
Of aidance from it — lo! this very army 
Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline, 
Loosened, and rent asunder from the state 
And from their sovereign, the blind instrument 
Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon 
Of fearful power, which at his will he wields. 


OCTAVIO. 


Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon — 
Men’s words are even bolder than their deeds ; 
And many a resolute, who now appears 

Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden, 
Find in his breast a heart he wot not of, 

Let but a single honest man speak out 

The true name of his crime! Remember, too, 
We stand not yet so wholly unprotected. 
Counts Altringer and Gallas have maintained 
Their little army faithful to its duty, 

And daily it becomes more numerous. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 21 


Nor can he take us by surprise; you know 

I hold him all encompassed by my listeners. 
Whate’er he does is mine, even while ’tis doing — 
No step so small, but instantly I hear it ; 

Yea, his own mouth discloses it. 


QUESTENBERG. 
"Tis quite 
Incomprehensible, that he detects not 
The foe so near ! 


OCTAVIO. 


Beware, you do not think, 
That I, by lying arts, and complaisant 
Hypocrisy, have sulked into his graces, 
Or with the substance of smooth professions 
Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No— 
Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty 
Which we all owe our country and our sovereign, 
To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet 
Ne’er have I duped him with base counterfeits ! 


QUESTENBERG. 
It is the visible ordinance of heaven. 


OCTAVIO. 


I know not what it is that so attracts 

And lnks him both to me and to my son. 
Comrades and friends we always were — long habit, 
Adventurous deeds performed in company, 

And all those many and various incidents 

Which stores a soldier’s memory with affections, 
Had bound us long and early to each other — 

Yet I can name the day, when all at once 

His heart rose on me, and his confidence 

Shot out into sudden growth. It was the morning 


22 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Before the memorable fight at Liitzen. 

Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out, 

To press him to accept another charger. 

At a distance from the tents, beneath a tree, 

I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him 
And had related all my bodings to him, 

Long time he stared upon me, like a man 
Astounded: thereon fell upon my neck, 

And manifested to me an emotion 

That far outstripped the worth of that small service. 
Since then his confidence has followed me 

With the same pace that mine has fled from him. 


QUESTENBERG. 
You lead your son into the secret ? 


OCTAVIO. 
No! 


QUESTENBERG. 


What! and not warn him either, what bad hands 
His lot has placed him in ? 


OCTAVIO. 


I must perforce 
Leave him in wardship to his innocence. 
His young and open soul — dissimulation 
Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance 
Alone can keep alive the cheerful air, 
The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit, 
That makes the duke secure. 


QUESTENBERG (anxiously). 


My honoured friend! most highly do I deem 
Of Colonel Piccolomini — yet — if — 
Reflect a little — 


THE PICCOLOMINI 23 


OCTAVIO. 


I must venture it. 
Hush! There he comes! 


ScENE IV. 
Max. PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG. 


MAX. 


Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father! 

[He embraces his father. As he turns around, 
he observes (QUESTENBERG, and draws back 
with a cold and reserved air. 

You are engaged, I see. Il not disturb you. 


OCTAVIO. 


How, Max.? Look closer at this visitor. 
Attention, Max., an old friend merits — reverence 
Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign. 


MAX. (drily). 


Von Questenberg !— welcome — if you bring with you 
Aught good to our headquarters. 


QUESTENBERG (seizing his hand). 


Nay, draw not 

Your hand away, Count Piccolomini! 
Not on my own account alone I seized it, 
And nothing common will I say therewith. 

[Zaking the hands of both. 
Octavio — Max. Piccolomini! 
O saviour names, and full of happy omen! 
Ne’er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria, 


24 THE PICCOLOMINI 


While two such stars, with blessed influences 
Beaming protection, shine above her hosts. 


MAX. 


Heh! Noble minister! You miss your part. 

You come not here to act a panegyric. 

Youw’re sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us — 
I must not be beforehand with my comrades. 


OCTAVIO to MAX. 


He comes from court, where people are not quite 
So well contented with the duke as here. 


MAX. 


What now have they contrived to find out in him ? 
That he alone determines for himself 

What he himself alone doth understand ! 

Well, therein he does right, and will persist in’t. 
Heaven never meant him for that passive thing 
That can be struck and hammered out to suit 
Another’s taste and fancy. He'll not dance 

To every tune of every minister. 

It goes against his nature — he can’t do it, 

He is possessed by a commanding spirit, 

And his, too, is the station of command. 

And well for us it is so! There exist 

Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use 
Their intellects intelligently. Then 

Well for the whole, if there be found a man 
Who makes himself what nature destined him, 
The pause, the central point, to thousand thousands — 
Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column, 
Where all may press with joy and confidence — 
Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if 

Another better suits the court — no other 

But such a one as he can serve the army. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 25 


QUESTENBERG. 
The army? Doubtless ! 


MAX. 


What delight to observe 
How he incites and strengthens all around him, 
Infusing life and vigour. Every power 

Seems as it were redoubled by his presence : 
He draws forth every latent energy, 

Showing to each his own peculiar talent, 

Yet leaving all to be what nature made them, 
And watching only that they be naught else 

In the right place and time; and he has skill 
To mouid the powers of all to his own end. 


QUESTENBERG. 


But who denies his knowledge of mankind, 
And skill to use it? Our complaint is this : — 
That in the master he forgets the servant, 

As if he claimed by birth his present honours. 


MAX. 


And does he not so? Is he not endowed 
With every gift and power to carry out 
The high intents of nature, and to win 

A ruler’s station by a ruler’s talent ? 


QUESTENBERG. 


So then it seems to rest with him alone 
What is the worth of all mankind beside! 


MAX. 


Uncommon men require no common trust ; 
Give him but scope and he will set the bounds. 


26 THE PICCOLOMINI 


QUESTENBERG. 
The proof is yet to come. 


MAX. 


Thus are ye ever. 
Ye shrink from everything of depth, and think 
Yourselves are only safe while ye’re in shallows. 


OCTAVIO (to QUESTENBERG). 


’T were best to yield with a good grace, my friend ; 
Of him there you'll make nothing. 


MAX. (continuing). 


In their fear 
They call a spirit up, and when he comes, 
Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread 

him 

More than the ills for which they called him up. 
The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be 
Like things of every day. But in the field, 
Ay, there the Present Being makes itself felt. 
The personal must command, the actual eye 
Examine. If to be the chieftain asks 
All that is great in nature, let it be 
Likewise his privilege to move and act 
In all the correspondences of greatness. 
The oracle within him, that which lives, 
He must invoke and question — not dead books, 
Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers. 


OCTAVIO. 


My son! of those old narrow ordinances 

Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights 
Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind 
Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 27 


For always formidable was the League 

And partnership of free power with free will. 

The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, 

Is yet no devious path. Straight forward goes 

The lightning’s path, and straight the fearful path 

Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies, and rapid; 

Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it 
reaches. 

My son, the road the human being travels, 

That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow 

The river’s course, the valley’s playful windings, 

Curves round the cornfield and the hill of vines, 

Honouring the holy bounds of property ! 

And thus secure, though late, leads to its end. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Oh, hear your father, noble youth! hear him 
Who is at once the hero and the man. 


OCTAVIO. 


My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee! 

A war of fifteen years 

Hath been thy education and thy school. 

Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists 

An higher than the warrior’s excellence. 

In war itself war is no ultimate purpose ; 

The vast and sudden deeds of violence, 

Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment, 

These are not they, my son, that generate 

The calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty ! 

Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect! 

Builds his ight town of canvas, and at once 

The whole scene moves and bustles momently. 

With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel 
The motley market fills; the roads, the streams, 

Are crowded with new freights ; trade stirs and hurries, 


28 THE PICCOLOMINI 


But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, 

The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. 
Dreary, and solitary as a churchyard, 

The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie, 
And the year’s harvest is gone utterly. 


MAX. 


Oh, let the emperor make peace, my father ! 

Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel 
For the first violet! of the leafless spring, 

Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed. 


OCTAVIO. 
What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once? 


MAX. 


Peace have I ne’er beheld? I have beheld it. 
From thence am I come hither: oh, that sight, 

It glimmers still before me, like some landscape 
Left in the distance, — some delicious landscape! 
My road conducted me through countries where 
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father 
My venerable father, life has charms 

Which we have never experienced. We have been 
But voyaging along its barren coasts, 

Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates, 
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship, 

House on the wild sea with wild usages, 

Nor know aught of the mainland, but the bays 
Where safeliest they may venture a thieves’ landing. 
Whate’er in the inland dales the land conceals 


1Jn the original, — 
*¢ Den blut’gen Lorbeer geb’ ich hin mit Freuden, 
Fiirs erste Veilchen, das der Marz uns bringt, 
Das diirftige Pfand der neuverjitingten Erde.”’ 


THE PICCOLOMINI 29 


Of fair and exquisite, oh, nothing, nothing, 
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage. 


OCTAVIO (attentive, with an appearance of wneasiness). 
And so your journey has revealed this to you ? 


MAX. 


"Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me, 

What is the meed and purpose of the toil, 

The painful toil which robbed me of my youth, 
Left me a heart unsouled and solitary, 

A spirit uninformed, unornamented ! 

For the camp’s stir, and crowd, and ceaseless larum, 
The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet, 
The unvaried, still returning hour of duty, 

Word of command, and exercise of arms — 

There’s nothing here, there’s nothing in all this, 

To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart! 

Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not — 
This cannot be the sole felicity, 

These cannot be man’s best and only pleasures 


OCTAVIO. ; 
Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey. 


MAX. 


Oh day, thrice lovely ! when at length the soldier 
Returns home into life; when he becomes 

A fellow man among his fellow men. 

The colours are unfurled, the cavalcade 

Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark ! 
Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home! 
The caps and helmet are all garlanded 

With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields. 
The city gates fly open of themselves, 

They need no longer the petard to tear them. 


30 THE PICCOLOMINI 


The ramparts are all filled with men and women, 
With peaceful men and women, that send onwards 
Kisses and welcomings upon the air, 

Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures. 
From all the towers rings out the merry peal, 

The joyous vespers of a bloody day. 

O happy man, O fortunate! for whom 

The well-known door, the faithful arms are open, 
The faithful tender arms with mute embracing. 


QUESTENBERG (apparently much affected). 


O that you should speak 
Of such a distant, distant time, and not 
Of the to-morrow, not of this to-day. 


MAX. (turning round to him quick and vehement). 


Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna! 

I will deal openly with you, Questenberg. 

Just now, as first I saw you standing here 

(Ll own it to you freely), indignation 

Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together. 

"Tis ye that hinder peace, ye /— and the warrior, 

It is the warrior that must force it from you. 

Ye fret the general’s life out, blacken him, 

Hold him up as a rebel, and heaven knows 

What else still worse, because he spares the Saxons, 

And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy ; 

Which yet’s the only way to peace: for if 

War intermit not during war, how then 

And whence can peace come? Your own plagues fall 
on you! 

Even as I love what’s virtuous, hate I you. 

And here I make this vow, here pledge myself, 

My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein, 

And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere ye 

Shall revel and dance jubilee o’er his ruin. [Lait. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 31 


ScENE V. 
QUESTENBERG, OcTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. 


QUESTENBERG. 


Alas! alas! and stands it so? 
[Zhen in pressing and vmpatient tones. 
What, friend! and do we let him go away 
In this delusion — let him go away ? 
Not call him back immediately, not open 
His eyes upon the spot ? | 


OCTAVIO (recovering himself out of a deep study). 


He has now opened mine, 
And I see more than pleases me. 


QUESTENBERG. 
What is it ? 


OCTAVIO. 
Curse on this journey ! 


QUESTENBERG. 
But why so? What is it? 


OCTAVIO. 


Come, come along, friend! I must follow up 

The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes 

Are opened now, and I must use them. Come! 
[Draws QUESTENBERG on with him. 


QUESTENBERG. 
What now? Where go you then? 


52 THE PICCOLOMINI 


OCTAVIO. 
To her herself. 


QUESTENBERG. 
VO ees 


OCTAVIO (interrupting him and correcting himself). 


To the duke. Come, let us go— ’Tis done, ’tis 
done, 

I see the net that is thrown over him. 

Oh! he returns not to me as he went. 


QUESTENBERG. 
Nay, but explain yourself. 


OCTAVIO. 


And that I should not 
Foresee it, not prevent this journey! Wherefore — 
Did I keep it from him? You were in the right. 
I should have warned him. Now it is too late. 


QUESTENBERG. 


But what's too late? Bethink yourself, my friend, 
That you are talking absolute riddles to me. 


OCTAVIO (more collected). 


Come! to the duke’s. ’Tis close upon the hour 
Which he appointed you for audience. Come! 
A curse, a threefold curse, upon this journey ! 

[He leads QUESTENBERG off. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 33 


ACT IL 
ScENE I. 


Changes to a spacious chamber in the house of the Duke of 
Friedland. Servants employed in putting the tables 
and chairs in order. During this enters SENI, like 
an old Italian doctor, in black, and clothed somewhat 
fantastically. He carries a white staff, with which 
he marks out the quarters of the heavens. 


FIRST SERVANT. 


Come —to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it. I 
hear the sentry call out,“ Stand to yourarms!” They 
will be here in a minute. 


SECOND SERVANT. 


Why were we not told before that the audience 
would be held here? Nothing prepared — no orders 
— no instructions. 


THIRD SERVANT. 


Ay, and why was the balcony chamber counter- 
manded, that with the great worked carpet? There 
one can look about one. 


FIRST SERVANT. 


Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. 
He says it is an unlucky chamber. 


SECOND SERVANT. 


Poh! stuff and nonsense! that’s what I call a hum. 
A chamber is a chamber; what much can the place 
signify in the affair ? 


34 THE PICCOLOMINI 


SENI (with gravity). 


My son, there’s nothing insignificant, 
Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing, 
First and most principal is place and time. 


FIRST SERVANT (to the second). 


Say nothing to him, Nat. The duke himself must 
let him have his own will. 


SENI (counts the chairs, half wn a loud, half m a low 
vowe, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats). 


Eleven! an evil number! Set twelve chairs. 
Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and seven, 
The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve. 


SECOND SERVANT. 


And what may you have to object against eleven ? 
I should like to know that now. 


SENI. 


Eleven is transgression ; eleven oversteps 
The ten commandments. 


SECOND SERVANT. 
That’s good? and why do you call five a holy 


number ? 
SENI. 


Five is the soul of man: for even as man 
Is mingled up of good and evil, so 

The five is the first number that’s made up 
Of even and odd. 


SECOND SERVANT. 
The foolish old coxcomb! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 35 


FIRST SERVANT. 


Ay, let him alone though. I like to hear him; 
there 1s more in his words than can be seen at first 
sight. 

THIRD SERVANT. 


Off, they come. 
SECOND SERVANT. 


There! Out at the side-door. 

[They hurry off. SENI follows slowly. A page 
brings the staff of command on a red cushion, 
and places it on the table, near the duke’s 
chair. They are announced from without, 
and the wings of the door fly open. 


ScENE II. 
WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


You went, then, through Vienna, were presented 
To the Queen of Hungary ? 


DUCHESS. 


Yes; and to the empress, too, 
And by both majesties were we admitted 
To kiss the hand. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


And how was it received, 
That I had sent for wife and daughter hither 
To the camp, in winter-time ? 


DUCHESS. 


, I did even that 
Which you commissioned me to do. I told them 


36 THE PICCOLOMINI 


You had determined on our daughter’s marriage, 
And wished, ere you went into the field, 
To show the elected husband his betrothed. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And did they guess the choice which I had made ? 


DUCHESS. 


They only hoped and wished it may have fallen 
Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And you — what do you wish, Elizabeth ? 


DUCHESS. 
Your will, you know, was always mine. 


WALLENSTEIN (after a pause). 


Well, then, — 
And in all else, of what kind and complexion 
Was your reception at the court ? 
[Zhe DucHEss casts her eyes on the ground, and 
remains silent. 
Hide nothing from me. How were you received ? 


DUCHESS. 


O! my dear lord, all is not what it was. 
A canker-worm, my lord, a canker-worm 
Has stolen into the bud. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Ay ! is it so? 
What, they were lax ? they failed of the old respect ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 37 


DUCHESS. 


Not of respect. No honours were omitted, 

No outward courtesy ; but in the place 

Of condescending, confidential kindness, 

Familiar and endearing, there were given me 

Only these honours and that solemn courtesy. 

Ah! and the tenderness which was put on, 

It was the guise of pity, not of favour. 

No! Albrecht’s wife, Duke Albrecht’s princely wife, 
Count Harrach’s noble daughter, should not so — 
Not wholly so should she have been received. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes, yes; they have taken offence. My latest conduct 
They railed at it, no doubt. 


DUCHESS. 


O that they had! 
I have been long accustomed to defend you, 
To heal and pacify distempered spirits. 
No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up, 
O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence ! 
Here is no every-day misunderstanding, 
No transient pique, no cloud that passes over ; 
Something most luckless, most unhealable, 
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary 
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt, 
And ever at departure to embrace me — 


| WALLENSTEIN. 
Now she omitted it ? 


DUCHESS (wiping away her tears after a pause). 


She did embrace me, 
But then first when I had already taken 


38 THE PICCOLOMINI 


My formal leave, and when the door already 

Had closed upon me, then did she come out 

In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself, 
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish 
Than tenderness. 


WALLENSTEIN (seizes her hand soothingly). 


Nay, now collect yourself. 
And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein, 
And of our other friends there ? 


DUCHESS (shaking her head). 


I saw none. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The ambassador from Spain, who once was wont 
To plead so warmly for me? 


DUCHESS. 
Silent, silent ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


These suns then are eclipsed for us. Henceforward 
Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light. 


DUCHESS. 


And were it — were it, my dear lord, in that 
Which moved about the court in buzz and whisper, 
But in the country let itself be heard 

Aloud —in that which Father Lanormain 

In sundry hints and — 


WALLENSTEIN (eagerly). 


Lanormain ! what said he ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 39 


DUCHESS. 


That youre accused of having daringly 
O’erstepped the powers intrusted to you, charged 
With traitorous contempt of the emperor 
And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian, 
He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers — 
That there’s a storm collecting over you 
Of far more fearful menace than the former one 
Which whirled you headlong down at Regensburg. 
And people talk, said he, of — Ah! 
[Stifling extreme emotion. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Proceed ! 
DUCHESS. 


I cannot utter it! 
WALLENSTEIN. 
Proceed ! 


DUCHESS. 
They talk — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Well! 
DUCHESS. 
Of a second — (catches her voice and hesitates). 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Second — 


DUCHESS. 


Most disgraceful 
Dismission. 


40 THE PICCOLOMINI 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Talk they ? 
[Strides across the chamber in vehement agitation. 
O ! they force, they thrust me 
With violence, against my own will, onward! 


DUCHESS (presses near to him in entreaty). 


Oh! if there yet be time, my husband! if 

By giving way and by submission, this 

Can be averted — my dear lord, give way! 

Win down your proud heart to it! Tell the heart, 

It is your sovereign lord, your emperor, 

Before whom you retreat. Oh! let no longer 

Low trickling malice blacken your good meaning 
With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up 
Shielded and helmed and weaponed with the truth, 
And drive before you into uttermost shame 

These slanderous lars! Few firm friends have we — 
You know it! The swift growth of our good fortune, 
It hath but set us up a mark for hatred. 

What are we, if the sovereign’s grace and favour 
Stand not before us! 


Scene III. 


Enter the Countess TERzKY, leading in her hand the 
Princess THEKLA, richly adorned with brilliants. 


CoUNTESS THEKLA, WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS. 


COUNTESS. 


How, sister! What, already upon business ? 

[Observing the countenance of the DUCHESS. 
And business of no pleasing kind I see, 
Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first 


THE PICCOLOMINI 41 


Moment belongs to joy. Here, Friedland! father! 
This is thy daughter. 

[THEKLA approaches with a shy and timid air, and 
bends herself as about to kiss his hand. He 
receives her in his arms, and remains stand- 
ing for some time lost wn the feeling of her 
presence. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes! pure and lovely hath hope risen on me, 
I take her as the pledge of greater fortune. 


DUCHESS. 


"Twas but a little child when you departed 
To raise up that great army for the emperor: 
And after, at the close of the campaign, 
When you returned home out of Pomerania, 
Your daughter was already in the convent, 
Wherein she has remained till now. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The while 
We in the field here gave our cares and toils 
To make her great, and fight her a free way 
To the loftiest earthly good ; lo! mother Nature 
Within the peaceful, silent convent walls, 
Has done her part, and out of her free grace 
Hath she bestowed on the beloved child 
The god-like ; and now leads her thus adorned 
To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope. 


DUCHESS (#0 THEKLA). 


Thou wouldst not now have recognised thy father, 

Wouldst thou, my child? She counted scarce eight 
years 

When last she saw your face. 


42 THE PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA. 


O yes, yes, mother ! 
At the first glance! My father has not altered. 
The form that stands before me falsifies 
No feature of the image that hath lived 
So long within me! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The voice of my child! 
[Then after a pause. 
I was indignant at my destiny, 
That it denied me a man-child, to be 
Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune, 
And re-illume my soon-extinguished being 
In a proud line of prinees. 
I wronged my destiny. Here upon this head, 
So lovely in its maiden bloom, will I 
Let fall the garland of a life of war, 
Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it, 
Transmuted to a regal ornament, 
Around these beauteous brows. 
[He clasps her in his arms as PICCOLOMINI enters. 


ScENE IV. 


Enter Max. PICCOLOMINI, and some time after COUNT 
TERZKY, the others remaining as before. 


COUNTESS. 
There comes the Paladin who protected us. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Max.! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert thou 
The morning star of my best joys! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. 
My general — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Till now it was the emperor who rewarded thee, 
I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound 
The father to thee, Max.! the fortunate father, 
And this debt Friedland’s self must pay. 


MAX. 


My prince! 
You made no common hurry to transfer it. 
I come with shame: yea, not without a pang! 
For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered 
The mother and the daughter to your arms, 
But there is brought to me from your equerry ! 
A splendid richly-plated hunting dress 
So to remunerate me for my troubles — 
Yes, yes, remunerate me, — since a trouble 
It must be, a mere office, not a favour 
Which I leaped forward to receive, and which 
I came with grateful heart to thank you for. 
No! ’twas not so intended, that my business 
Should be my highest best good fortune! 


43 


[TERZKY enters, and delivers letters to the DUKE, 


which he breaks open hurriedly. 


1A reviewer in the Literary Gazette observes that, in these 
lines, Mr. Coleridge has misapprehended the meaning of the 
word ‘‘zug,’’ a team, translating it as ‘‘ anzug,’’ a suit of clothes. 


The following version, as a substitute, I propose : 


When from your stables there is brought to me 
A team of four most richly harnessed horses. 


The term, however, is ‘‘ jagd-zug,’’ which may mean a ‘ hunting 
equipage,’’ or a ‘‘ hunting stud ;’’ although Hilpert gives only ‘‘a 


team of four horses.’’ 


44 THE PICCOLOMINI 


COUNTESS (¢0 MAX). 


Remunerate your trouble! For his joy 

He makes you recompense. ‘Tis not unfitting 
For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel 

So tenderly — my brother it beseems 

To show himself for ever great and princely. 


THEKLA. 


Then I too must have scruples of his love: 
For his munificent hands did ornament me 
Ere yet the father’s heart had spoken to me. 


MAX. 


Yes; ‘tis his nature ever to be giving 
And making happy. 
[He grasps the hand of the DucHEss with still 
increasing warmth. 
How my heart pours out 
Its all of thanks to him! O! how I seem 
To utter all things in the dear name — Friedland. 
While I shall live, so long will I remain 
The captive of this name: in it shall bloom 
My every fortune, every lovely hope. 
Inextricably as in some magic ring 
In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me! 


COUNTESS (who during this time has been anxiously 
watching the DUKE, and remarks that he is lost 
in thought over the letters). 


My brother wishes us to leave him. Come. 


WALLENSTEIN (turns himself around quick, collects him- 
self, and speaks with cheerfulness to the DUCHESS). 


Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp, 
Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max., 


THE PICCOLOMINI 45 


Will now again administer your old office, 
While we perform the sovereign’s business here. 


[Max. PIccoLoMINI offers the DUCHESS his arm ; 
the COUNTESS accompanies the PRINCESS. 


TERZKY (calling after him). 


Max., we depend on seeing you at the meeting. 


SCENE V. 
WALLENSTEIN, Count TERZKY. 


WALLENSTEIN (in deep thought, to himself). 


She has seen all things as they are — it is so, 

And squares completely with my other notices; 
They have determined finally in Vienna, 

Have given me my successor already ; 

It is the King of Hungary, Ferdinand, 

The emperor’s delicate son! he’s now their saviour, 
He’s the new star that’s rising now! Of us 

They think themselves already fairly rid, 

And as we were deceased, the heir already 

Is entering on possession — Therefore — despatch ! 


[As he turns around he observes TERZKY, and gives 
him a letter. 


Count Altringer will have himself excused, 
And Gallas too —I like not this! 


TERZKY. 


And if 
Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away, 
One following the other. 


46 THE PICCOLOMINI 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Altringer 
Is master of the Tyrol passes. I must forthwith 
Send some one to him, that he let not in 
The Spaniards on me from the Milanese. 
— Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader 
In contraband negotiations, he 
Has shown himself again of late. What brings he 
From the Count Thur ? 


TERZKY. 


The count communicates 
He has found out the Swedish chancellor 
At Halberstadt, where the convention’s held, 
Who says, you've tired him out, and that he’ll have 
No further dealings with you. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And why so? 


TERZKY. 


He says, you are never in earnest in your speeches ; 
That you decoy the Swedes — to make fools of them ; 
Will league yourself with Saxony against them, 

And at last make yourself a riddance of them 

With a paltry sum of money. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


So then, doubtless, 
Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects 
That I shall yield him some fair German tract 
For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last 
On our own soil and native territory 
May be no longer our own lords and masters! 
An excellent scheme! No, no! They must be off, 
Off, off! away! we want no such neighbours. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 47 


TERZKY. 


Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land — 
It goes not from your portion. If you win 
The game, what matters it to you who pays it ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Off with them, off! Thou understand’st not this. 
Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled 

My native land away, dismembered Germany, 
Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order 

To come with stealthy tread, and filch away 

My own share of the plunder — Never ! never! 
No foreign power shall strike root in the empire, 
And least of all these Goths! these hungry wolves! 
Who send such envious, hot, and greedy glances 
Toward the rich blessings of our German lands! 
[ll have their aid to cast and draw my nets, 

But not a single fish of all the draught 

Shall they come in for. 


TERZKY. 


You will deal, however, 
More fairly with the Saxons? they lose patience 
While you shift round and make so many curves. 
Say, to what purpose all these masks? Your friends 
Are plunged in doubts, baffled, and led astray in 

you. 

There’s Oxenstiern, there’s Arnheim — neither knows 
What he should think of your procrastinations, 
And in the end I prove the har; all 
Passes through me. Ive not even your handwriting. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
I never give handwriting ; and thou knowest it. 


Si a 


48 THE PICCOLOMINI 


TERZKY. 


But how can it be known that you are in earnest, 

If the act follows not upon the word ? 

You must yourself acknowledge, that in all 

Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy, 

You might have done with safety all you have done, 
Had you meant nothing further than to gull him 
For the emperor’s service. 


WALLENSTEIN (after a pause, during which he looks 
narrowly on TERZKY). 


And from whence dost thou know 
That I’m not gulling him for the emperor’s service ? 
Whence knowest thou that ’m not gulling all of you ? 
Dost thou know me so well? When made I thee 
The intendant of my secret purposes ? 
I am not conscious that I ever opened 
My inmost thoughts to thee. The emperor, it is true, 
Hath dealt with me amiss; and if I would 
I could repay him with usurious interest 
For the evil he hath done me. It delights me 
To know my power; but whether I shall use it, 
Of that I should have thought that thou couldst speak 
No wiser than thy fellows. 


TERZKY. 


So hast thou always played thy game with us. 
[ Lnter Io. 


ScENE VI. 
ILLO, WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
How stand affairs without ? Are they prepared ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 49 


ILLO. 


You'll find them in the very mood you wish. 
They know about the emperor’s requisition, 
And are tumultuous. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


How hath Isolani 
Declared himself ? 


ILLO. 


He’s yours, both soul and body, 
Since you built up again his faro-bank. 


WALLENSTEIN, 


And which way doth Kolatto bend? Hast thou 
Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodati ? 


ILLO. 
What Piccolomini does that they do too. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
You mean, then, I may venture somewhat with them ? 


ILLO. 
If you are assured of the Piccolomini. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Not more assured of mine own self. 


TERZKY. 


And yet 
I would you trusted not so much to Octavio, 
The fox! 


tg OTe 
acai pny 


Det 
Fed 


50 THE PICCOLOMINI 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou teachest me to know my man ? 
Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old warrior. 
Besides, I have his horoscope ; 
We both are born beneath like stars —in short, 


[With an air of mystery. 


To this belongs its own peculiar aspect, 
If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest — 


ILLO. 


There is among them all but this one voice, 
You must not lay down the command. I hear 
They mean to send a deputation to you. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


If I’m in aught to bind myself to them 
They too must bind themselves to me. 


130) 
Of course. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Their words of honour they must give, their oaths, 
Give them in writing to me, promising 
Devotion to my service unconditional. 


ILLO. 
Why not ? 


TERZKY. 


Devotion unconditional ? 
The exception of their duties toward Austria 
They'll always place among the premises. 
With this reserve — 


} 
: 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


WALLENSTEIN (shaking his head). 


All unconditional ; 
No premises, no reserves. 


ILLO. 


A thought has struck me. 


Does not Count Terzky give us a set banquet 
This evening ? 
TERZKY. 


Yes; and all the generals 
Have been invited. 


ILLO (to WALLENSTEIN). 


Say, will you here fully 
Commission me to use my own discretion ? 
Tl gain for you the generals’ word of honour, 
Even as you wish. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Gain me their signatures ! 
How you come by them that is your concern. 


ILLO. 


And if I bring it to you in black on white, 
That all the leaders who are present here 
Give themselves up to you, without condition ; 
Say, will you then — then will you show yourself 
In earnest, and with some decisive action 
Try your fortune. 

WALLENSTEIN. 


Get but the signatures! 


ILLO. 


Think what thou dost, thou canst not execute 
The emperor’s orders, nor reduce thine army, 
Nor send the regiments to the Spaniards’ aid, 


51 


Ne, 


52 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Unless thou wouldst resign thy power for ever. 
Think on the other hand — thou canst not spurn 
The emperor’s high commands and solemn orders, 
No longer temporise, nor seek evasion, 

Wouldst thou avoid a rupture with the court. 
Resolve then! Wilt thou now by one bold act 
Anticipate their ends, or, doubting still, 

Await the extremity ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


There’s time before 
The extremity arrives. 


ILLO. 


Seize, seize the hour, 
Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment 
In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty. 
To make a great decision possible, 
O! many things, all transient and all rapid, 
Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met 
May by that confluence be enforced to pause 
Time long-enough for wisdom, though too short, 
Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple! 
This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, 
Our best, our noblest, are assembled round you, 
Their king-like leader! On your nod they wait. 


The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune 


Hath woven together in one potent web 

Instinct with destiny, O! let them not 

Unravel of themselves. If you permit 

These chiefs to separate, so unanimous 

Bring you them not a second time together. 

"Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, 
And every individual’s spirit waxes 

In the great stream of multitudes. Behold 

They are still here, here still! But soon the war 
Bursts them once more asunder, and in small 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


Particular anxieties and interests 

Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy 

Of each man with the whole. He who to-day 
Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream, 
Will become sober, seeing but himself. 

Feel only his own weakness, and with speed 
Will face about, and march on in the old 

High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road, 
And seek but to make shelter in good plight. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
The time is not yet come. 


TERZKY. 


So you say always. 
But when will it be time ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
When I shall say it. 


ILLO. 
You'll wait upon the stars, and on their hours, 


Till the earthly hour escapes you. Oh, believe me, 


In your own bosom are your destiny’s stars. 
Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution, 
This is your Venus! and the sole malignant, 
The only one that harmeth you is doubt. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou speakest as thou understandest. How oft 
And many a time I’ve told thee Jupiter, 

That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth. 
Thy visual power subdues no mysteries ; 
Mole-eyed thou mayest but burrow in the earth, 
Blind as the subterrestrial, who with wan 


53 


54 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Lead-coloured shine lighted thee into life. 
The common, the terrestrial, thou mayest see, 
With serviceable cunning knit together, 
The nearest with the nearest ; and therein 
I trust thee and believe thee! but whate’er 
Full of mysterious import Nature weaves, 
And fashions in the depths — the spirit’s ladder, 
That from this gross and visible world of dust, 
Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, 
Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers 
Move up and down on heavenly ministries — 
The circles in the circles, that approach 
The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit — 
These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye, 
Of Jupiter’s glad children born in lustre. 

[He walks across the chamber, then returns, and 

standing still, proceeds. 

The heavenly constellations make not merely 
The day and nights, summer and spring, not merely 
Signify to the husbandman the seasons 
Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, 
That is the seed, too, of contingencies, 
Strewed on the dark land of futurity 
In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate 
Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time, 
To watch the stars, select their proper hours, 
And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses, 
Whether the enemy of growth and thriving 
Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner. 
Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile 
Do you your part. As yet I cannot say . a 
What J shall do — only, give way I will not, 
Depose me, too, they shall not. On these points 
You may rely. 


PAGE (entering). 
My lords, the generals. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 55 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Let them come in. 
TERZKY. 
Shall all the chiefs be present ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


’"Twere needless. Both the Piccolomini, 
Maradas, Butler, Forgoetsch, Deodati, 
Karaffa, Isolani— these may come. 
[TERZKY goes out with the PAGE. 


WALLENSTEIN (¢o ILLO). 


Hast thou taken heed that Questenberg was watched ? 
Had he no means of secret intercourse ? 


ILLO. 


I have watched him closely — and he spoke with none 
But with Octavio. 


ScENE VIL. 


WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLO.— To them enter QUES- 
TENBERG, OcTAVIO, and Max. PICCOLOMINI, But- 
LER, ISOLANI, MARADAS, and three other Generals. 
WALLENSTEIN motions QUESTENBERG, who 1n con- 
sequence takes the chair directly opposite to him ; 
the others follow, arranging themselves according to 
their rank. There reigns a momentary silence. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I have understood, 
Tis true, the sum and import, Questenberg, 
Of your instructions. Ihave weighed them well, 
And formed my final, absolute resolve ; 


56 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Yet it seems fitting that the generals 

Should hear the will of the emperor from your mouth. 
May it please you then to open your commission 
Before these noble chieftains ? 


QUESTENBERG. 


I am ready 
To obey you; but will first entreat your highness, 
And all these noble chieftains, to consider, 
The imperial dignity and sovereign right 
Speaks from my mouth, and not my own presumption. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
We excuse all preface. - 


QUESTENBERG. 


When his majesty 
The emperor to his courageous armies 
Presented in the person of Duke Friedland 
A most experienced and renowned commander, 
He did it in glad hope and confidence 
To give thereby to the fortune of the war 
A rapid and auspicious change. The onset 
Was favourable to his royal wishes. 
Bohemia was delivered from the Saxons, 
The Swede’s career of conquest checked! These lands 
Began to draw breath freely, as Duke Friedland 
From all the streams of Germany forced hither 
The scattered armies of the enemy ; 
Hither invoked as round one magic circle 
The Rhinegrave, Bernhard, Banner, Oxenstiern, 
Yea, and the never-conquered king himself ; 
Here finally, before the eye of Nurnberg, 
The fearful game of battle to decide. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 57 


WALLENSTEIN. 
To the point, so please you. 


QUESTENBERG. 
A new spirit 

At once proclaimed to us the new commander. 
No longer strove blind rage with rage more blind ; 
But in the enlightened field of skill was shown 
How fortitude can triumph over boldness, 
And scientific art outweary courage. 
In vain they tempt him to the fight, he only 
Entrenches him still deeper in his hold, 
As if to build an everlasting fortress. 
At length grown desperate, now, the king resolves 
To storm the camp and lead his wasted legions, 
Who daily fall by famine and by plague, 
To quicker deaths and hunger and disease. 
Through lines of barricades behind whose fence 
Death lurks within a thousand mouths of fire, 
He yet unconquered strives to storm his way. 
There was attack, and there resistance, such 
As mortal eye had never seen before ; 
Repulsed at last, the king withdrew his troops 
From this so murderous field, and not a foot 
Of ground was gained by all that fearful slaughter. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Pray spare us these recitals from gazettes, 
Which we ourselves beheld with deepest horror. 


QUESTENBERG. 


In Nurnberg’s camp the Swedish monarch left 

His fame—in Liitzen’s plains his life. But who 
Stood not astounded, when victorious Friedland 
After this day of triumph, this proud day, 


58 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Marched toward Bohemia with the speed of flight, 
And vanished from the theatre of war ? 

While the young Weimar hero ! forced his way 

Into Franconia, to the Danube, like 

Some delving winter-stream, which, where it rushes, 
Makes its own channel; with such sudden speed 

He marched, and now at once fore Regensburg 
Stood to the affright of all good Catholic Christians. 
Then did Bavaria’s well-deserving prince 

Entreat swift aidance in his extreme need ; 

The emperor sends seven horsemen to Duke Friedland, 
Seven horsemen couriers sends he with the entreaty : 
He superadds his own, and supplicates 

Where as the sovereign lord he can command. 

In vain his supplication! At this moment 

The duke hears only his old hate and grudge, 
Barters the general good to gratify 

Private revenge — and so falls Regensburg. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Max., to what period of the war alludes he ? 
My recollection fails me here. 


MAX. 


He means 
When we were in Silesia. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Ay! is it so! 
But what had we to do there ? 
MAX. 


To beat out 
The Swedes and Saxons from the province. 


1 Bernhard of Saxe- Weimar, who succeeded Gustavus in 
command. 


© 
EN 


THE PICCOLOMINI 59 


WALLENSTEIN. 
True ; 
In that description which the minister gave, 
I seemed to have forgotten the whole war. 
[ Zo QUESTENBERG. 
Well, but proceed a little. 


QUESTEN BERG. 


We hoped upon the Oder to regain 

What on the Danube shamefully was lost. 

We looked for deeds of all-astounding grandeur 
Upon a theatre of war, on which 

A Friedland led in person to the field, 

And the famed rival of the great Gustavus 
Had but a Thurn and Arnheim to oppose him! 
Yet the encounter of their mighty hosts 

Served but to feast and entertain each other. 
Our country groaned beneath the woes of war, 
Yet naught but peace prevailed in Friedland’s camp! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Full many a bloody strife is fought in vain, 
Because its youthful general needs a victory. 
But ’tis the privilege of the old commander 

To spare the costs of fighting useless battles 
Merely to show that he knows how to conquer. 
It would have little helped my fame to boast 

Of conquest o’er an Arnheim ; but far more 
Would my forbearance have availed my country, 
Had I succeeded to dissolve the alliance 
Existing *twixt the Saxon and the Swede. 


QUESTENBERG. 


But you did not succeed, and so commenced 
The fearful strife anew. And here at length, 
Beside the river Oder did the duke 


60 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Assert his ancient fame. Upon the fields 

Of Steinau did the Swedes lay down their arms, 
Subdued without a blow. And here, with others, 
The righteousness of heaven to his avenger 
Delivered that long-practised stirrer-up 

Of insurrection, that curse-laden torch 

And kindler of this war, Matthias Thurn. 

But he had fallen into magnanimous hands, 
Instead of punishment he found reward, 

And with rich presents did the duke dismiss 
The arch-foe of his emperor. 


WALLENSTEIN (laughs). 


I know, 
I know you had already in Vienna 
Your windows and your balconies forestalled 
To see him on the executioner’s cart. 
I might have lost the battle, lost it too 
With infamy, and still retained your graces — 
But, to have cheated them of a spectacle, 
Oh! that the good folks of Vienna never, 
No, never can forgive me! 


QUESTENBERG. 


So Silesia 
Was freed, and all things loudly called the duke 
Into Bavaria, now pressed hard on all sides. 
And he did put his troops in motion: slowly, 
Quite at his ease, and by the longest road 
He traverses Bohemia; but ere ever 
He hath once seen the enemy, faces round, 


Breaks up the march, and takes to winter-quarters. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The troops were pitiably destitute 
Of every necessary, every comfort, 


THE PICCOLOMINI 61 
The winter came. What thinks his majesty 
His troops are made of? Aren’t we men; subjected 
Like other men to wet, and cold, and all 
The circumstances of necessity ? 
Oh, miserable lot of the poor soldier! 
Wherever he comes in all flee before him, 
And when he goes away the general curse 
Follows him on his route. All must be seized. 
Nothing is given him. And compelled to seize 
From every man he’s every man’s abhorrence. 
Behold, here stand my generals. Karaffa! 
Count Deodati! Butler! Tell this man 
How long the soldier’s pay is in the arrears. 


BUTLER. 
Already a full year. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


And ’tis the hire 
That constitutes the hireling’s name and duties, 
The soldier’s pay is the soldier’s covenant.1 


QUESTENBERG. 


Ah! this is a far other tone from that 
In which the duke spoke eight, nine years ago. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes! ’tis my fault, I know it: I myself 
Have spoilt the emperor by indulging him. 


1The original is not translatable into English : 


Und sein Sold 
Muss dem Soldaten werden, darnach heisst er. 


It might perhaps have been thus rendered : 


And that for which he sold his services, 
The soldier must receive, — 


but a false or doubtful etymology is no more than a dull pun. 


62 | THE PICCOLOMINI 


Nine years ago, during the Danish war, 

I raised him up a force, a mighty force, 

Forty or fifty thousand men, that cost him 

Of his own purse no doit. Through Saxony 
The fury goddess of the war marched on, 

F’en to the surf-rocks of the Baltic, bearing 
The terrors of his name. That was a time! 

In the whole imperial realm no name like mine 
Honoured with festival and celebration — 

And Albrecht Wallenstein, it was the title 

Of the third jewel in his crown! 

But at the Diet, when the princes met 

At Regensburg, there, there the whole broke out, 
There ’twas laid open, there it was made known 
Out of what money-bag I had paid the host, 
And what were now my thanks, what had I now 
That I, a faithful servant of the sovereign, 

Had loaded on myself the people’s curses, 

And let the princes of the empire pay 

The expenses of this war that aggrandises 

The emperor alone. What thanks had I? 
What? Iwas offered up to their complaint, 
Dismissed, degraded ! 


QUESTENBERG. 


But your highness knows 
What little freedom he possessed of action 
In that disastrous Diet. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Death and hell ! 
I had that which could have procured him freedom. 
No! since ‘twas proved so inauspicious to me 
To serve the emperor at the empire’s cost, 
I have been taught far other trains of thinking 
Of the empire and the Diet of the empire. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


From the emperor, doubtless, I received this staff, 
But now I hold it as the empire’s general, — 

For the common weal, the universal interest, 

And no more for that one man’s aggrandisement ! 
But to the point. What is it that’s desired of me ? 


QUESTENBERG. 


First, his imperial majesty hath willed 
That without pretexts of delay the army 
Evacuate Bohemia. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


In this season ? 
And to what quarter wills the emperor 
That we direct our course ? 


QUESTENBERG. 


To the enemy. 
His majesty resolves, that Regensburg 
Be purified from the enemy ere Easter, 
That Lutheranism may be no longer preached 
In that cathedral, nor heretical 
Defilement desecrate the celebration 
Of that pure festival. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


My generals, 
Can this be realised ? 


ILLO. 
"Tis not possible. 


BUTLER. 
It can’t be realised. 


63 


64 THE PICCOLOMINI 


QUESTENBERG. 


The emperor 
Already hath commanded Colonel Suys 
To advance towards Bavaria. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What did Suys? 


QUESTENBERG. 
That which his duty prompted. He advanced. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What! he advanced? And I, his general, 4 
Had given him orders, peremptory orders, - 
Not to desert his station! Stands it thus 

With my authority? Is this the obedience 
Due to my office, which being thrown aside, | 
No war can be conducted? Chieftains, speak : q 
You be the judges, generals! What deserves 
That officer who, of his oath neglectful, 
Is guilty of contempt of orders ? 


ILLO. 
Death. 


WALLENSTEIN (raising his voice, as all but ILLO had 
remained silent and seemingly scrupulous). 


Count Piccolomini! what has he deserved ? 


MAX. PICCOLOMINI (after a long pause). 


According to the letter of the law, 
Death. 


ISOLANI. 
Death. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


BUTLER. 
Death, by the laws of war. 


[QUESTENBERG rises from his seat, WALLENSTEIN 


follows, all the rest rise. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


To this the law condemns him, and not I. 
And if I show him favour, ’twill arise 
From the reverence that I owe my emperor. 


QUESTENBERG. 
If so, I can say nothing further — here ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I accepted the command but on conditions! 
And this the first, that to the diminution 

Of my authority no human being, 

Not even the emperor’s self, should be entitled 
To do aught, or to say aught, with the army. 
If I stand warranter of the event, 

Placing my honour and my head in pledge, 
Needs must I have full mastery in all 

The means thereto. What rendered this Gustavus 
Resistless, and unconquered upon earth ? 

This —that he was the monarch in his army! 
A monarch, one who is indeed a monarch, 
Was never yet subdued but by his equal. 

But to the pomt! The best is yet to come. 
Attend now, generals ! 


QUESTENBERG. 


The Prince Cardinal 
Begins his route at the approach of spring 
From the Milanese; and leads a Spanish army 
Through Germany into the Netherlands. 


65 


66 THE PICCOLOMINI 


That he may march secure and unimpeded, 
‘Tis the emperor’s will you grant him a detachment 
Of eight horse-regiments from the army here. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes, yes! I understand! Eight regiments! Well, 
Right well concerted, Father Lanormain ! 
Hight thousand horse! Yes, yes! ’tis as it should be! 
I see it coming. 

QUESTENBERG. 


There is nothing coming. 
All stands in front: the counsel of state-prudence, 
The dictate of necessity ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What then ? 
What, my lord envoy? May I not be suffered 
To understand that folks are tired of seeing 
The sword’s hilt in my grasp, and that your court 
Snatch eagerly at this pretence, and use 
The Spanish title, and drain off my forces, 
To lead into the empire a new army 
Unsubjected to my control? To throw me 
Plumply aside, —I am still too powerful for you 
To venture that. My stipulation runs, 
That all the imperial forces shall obey me 
Where’er the German is the native language. 
Of Spanish troops and of prince cardinals, 
That take their route as visitors, through the empire, 
There stands no syllable in my stipulation. 
No syllable! And so the politic court 
Steals in on tiptoe, and creeps round behind it ; 
First makes me weaker, then to be dispensed with, 
Till it dares strike at length a bolder blow, 
And make short work with me. 
What need of all these crooked ways, lord envoy ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 67 


Straightforward, man! his compact with me pinches 
The emperor. He would that I moved off! 
Well! I will gratify him. 
[Here there commences an agitation among the gen- 
erals, which increases continually. 
It grieves me for my noble officers’ sakes ; 
I see not yet by what means they will come at 
The moneys they have advanced, or how obtain 
The recompense their services demand. 
Still a new leader brings new claimants forward, 
And prior merit superannuates quickly. 
There serve here many foreigners in the army, 
And were the man in all else brave and gallant, 
I was not wont to make nice scrutiny 
After his pedigree or catechism. 
This will be otherwise 7’ the time to come. 
Well; me no longer it concerns. [He seats himself. 


MAX. PICCOLOMINI. 


Forbid it, Heaven, that it should come to this! 
Our troops will swell in dreadful fermentation — 
The emperor is abused — it cannot be. 


ISOLANI. 
It cannot be; all goes to instant wreck. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou hast said truly, faithful Isolani! 
What we with toil and foresight have built up 
Will go to wreck — all go to instant wreck. 
What then? Another chieftain is soon found, 
Another army likewise (who dares doubt it 2) 
Will flock from all sides to the emperor, 
At the first beat of his recruiting drum. 
[During this speech, ISOLANI, TERZKY, ILLO, and 
MaRaDas talk confusedly with great agitation. 


68 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. PICCOLOMINI (busily and passionately going from 
one to another, and soothing them). 


Hear, my commander! Hear me, generals! 

Let me conjure you, duke! Determine nothing, 
Till we have met and represented to you 

Our joint remonstrances! Nay, calmer! Friends! 
I hope all may yet be set right again. 


TERZKY. 


Away! let us away! in the antechamber 
Find we the others. [They go. 


BUTLER (to QUESTENBERG). 


If good counsel gain 
Due audience from your wisdom, my lord envoy, 
You will be cautious how you show yourself 
In public for some hours to come — or hardly 
Will that gold key protect you from maltreatmen 
[Commotions heard from without. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


A salutary counsel — Thou, Octavio ! 
Wilt answer for the safety of our guest. 
Farewell, Von Questenberg ! 
[QUESTENBERG 1s about to speak. 
Nay, not a word. 
Not one word more of that detested subject ! 
You have performed your duty. We know now 
To separate the office from the man. 
[As QUESTENBERG is going off with OCTAVIO, 
GOETZ, TIEFENBACH, KOLATTO, press in, sev- 
eral other generals following them. 


GOETZ. 
Where’s he who means to rob us of our general ? 


Se —. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 69 


TIEFENBACH (at the same time). 
What are we forced to hear? That thou wilt leave us ? 


KOLATTO (at the same tume). 
We will live with thee, we will die with thee. 


WALLENSTEIN (with stateliness, and pointing to ILLO). 


There! the field-marshal knows our will. [ Bait. 
[ While all are going off the stage, the curtain drops. 


ACT III. 
ScENE I. A Small Chamber. 
Into and TERZKY. 


TERZKY. 


Now for this evening’s business! How intend you 
To manage with the generals at the banquet ? 


ILLO. 


Attend! We frame a formal declaration, 
Wherein we to the duke consign ourselves 
Collectively, to be and to remain 

His, both with life and limb, and not to spare 
The last drop of our blood for him, provided, 
So doing we infringe no oath or duty 

We may be under to the emperor. Mark! 
This reservation we expressly make 

In a particular clause, and save the conscience. 
Now hear! this formula so framed and worded 
Will be presented to them for perusal 

Before the banquet. No one will find in it 
Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further! 
After the feast, when now the vapouring wine 


70 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let 
A counterfeited paper, in the which 

This one particular clause has been left out, 
Go round for signatures. 


TERZKY. 


How! think you then 
That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath, 
Which we have tricked them into by a juggle? 


ILLO. 


We shall have caught and caged them! Let them then 
Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave 

Loud as they may against our treachery ; 

At court their signatures will be believed 

Far more than their most holy affirmations. 

Traitors they are, and must be; therefore wisely 

Will make a virtue of necessity. 


TERZKY. 


Well, well, it shall content me: let but something 
Be done, let only some decisive blow 
Set us in motion. 


ILLO. 


Besides, ’tis of subordinate importance 

How, or how far, we may thereby propel 

The generals. ’Tis enough that we persuade 

The duke that they are his. Let him but act 

In his determined mood, as if he had them, 

And he will have them. Where he plunges in, 
He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it. 


TERZKY. 


His policy is such a labyrinth, 
That many a time when I have thought myself 


THE PICCOLOMINI 71 


Close at his side, he’s gone at once, and left me 
Ignorant of the ground where I was standing. 
He lends the enemy his ear, permits me 

To write to them, to Arnheim ; to Sesina 
Himself comes forward blank and undisguised ; 
Talks with us by the hour about his plans, 

And when I think I have him — off at once — 
He has slipped from me, and appears as if 

He had no scheme, but to retain his place. 


ILLO. 


He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend! 

His soul is occupied with nothing else, 

Even in his sleep — they are his thoughts, his dreams, 
That day by day he questions for this purpose 

The motions of the planets — 


TERZKY. 


Ah! you know 
This night, that is now coming, he with Seni 
Shuts himself up in the astrological tower 
To make joint observations — for I hear 
It is to be a night of weight and crisis; 
And something great, and of long expectation, 
Takes place in heaven. 


ILLO. 


O that it might take place 
On earth! The generals are full of zeal, 
And would with ease be led to anything 
Rather than lose their chief. Observe, too, that 
We have at last a fair excuse before us 
To form a close alliance ’gainst the court, 
Yet innocent its title, bearing simply 
That we support him only in command. 


72 THE PICCOLOMINI 


But in the ardour of pursuit thou knowest 

Men soon forget the goal from which they started. 
The object I’ve in view is that the prince 

Shall either find them, or believe them ready 

For every hazard. Opportunity 

Will tempt him on. Le the great step once taken, 
Which at Vienna’s court can ne’er be pardoned, 
The force of circumstances will lead him onward 
The farther still and farther. ’Tis the choice 
That makes him undecisive — come but need, 
And all his powers and wisdom will come with it. 


TERZKY. 


’Tis this alone the enemy awaits 
To change their chief and join their force with ours. 


ILLO. 


Come! be we bold and make despatch. The work — 

In this next day or two must thrive and grow 

More than it has for years. And let but only 

Things first turn up auspicious here below — 

Mark what I say —the right stars, too, will show 
themselves. 

Come to the generals. All is in the glow, 

And must be beaten while ’tis malleable. 


TERZKY. 


Do you go thither, Ilo? I must stay 

And wait here for the Countess Terzky. Know 
That we, too, are not idle. Break one string, 

A second is in readiness. 


ILLO. 


Yes! yes! 
I saw your lady smile with such sly meaning. 
What’s in the wind ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 73 


TERZKY. 


A secret. Hush! she comes. 
[Hat Iuwo. 


ScENE II. 
The COUNTESS steps out from a closet. 
CounT and COUNTESS TERZKY. 


TERZKY. 


Well —is she coming? I can keep him back 
No longer. 


COUNTESS. 


She will be here instantly, 
You only send him. 


TERZKY. 


I am not quite certain, 
I must confess it, countess, whether or not 
We are earning the duke’s thanks hereby. You know 
No ray has broke out from him on this point. 
You have o’erruled me, and yourself know best 
How far you dare proceed. 


COUNTESS. 


I take it on me. 

[Zalking to herself while she 1s advancing. 
Here’s no heed of full powers and commissions ; 
My cloudy duke! we understand each other — 
And without words. What could I not unriddle, 
Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither, 
Why first he, and no other should be chosen 
To fetch her hither? This sham of betrothing her 


74 THE PICCOLOMINI 


To a bridegroom,! whom no one knows — No! no! 

This may blind others! I see through thee, brother! 

But it beseems thee not to draw a card 

At such a game. Not yet! It all remains 

Mutely delivered up to my finessing. 

Well — thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke Fried- 
land, 

In her who is thy sister. 


SERVANT (enters). 


The commanders! [ Lact. 


TERZKY (40 the COUNTESS). 


Take care you heat his fancy and affections — 
Possess him with a reverie, and send him 
Absent and dreaming to the banquet ; that 

He may not boggle at the signature. 


COUNTESS. 
Take care of your guests! Go, send him hither. 


‘TERZKY. 


All rests upon his undersigning. 


COUNTESS (interrupting him). 
Go to your guests! Go — 


ILLO (comes back). 


‘Where art staying, Terzky ? 
The house is full, and all expecting you. 


1JIn Germany, after honourable addresses have been paid and 
formally accepted, the lovers are called bride and bridegroom, 
even though the marriage should not take place till years after- 
ward. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 76 


TERZKY. 


Instantly ! instantly! [Zo the COUNTESS. 
And let him not 

Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion 

In the old man — 


COUNTESS. 


A truce with your precautions! 
[Hxeunt TERZKY and ILLO. 


ScENE III. 
CounTESS, Max. PICCOLOMINI. 


MAX. (peeping in on the stage slyly). 


Aunt Terzky ! may I venture ? 
[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks 
around him with uneasiness. 
She’s not here! 
Where is she ? 


COUNTESS. 


Look but somewhat narrowly 
In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie 
Concealed behind that screen. 


MAX. 


There lie her gloves! 
[Snatches at them, but the CouNTESS takes them herself. 
You unkind lady! You refuse me this, 
You make it an amusement to torment me. 


COUNTESS. 
And this the thanks you give me for my trouble ? 


76 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. 


O, if you felt the oppression at my heart! 

Since we've been here, so to constrain myself 

With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances, 
These, these are not my habits ! 


COUNTESS. 


You have still 
Many new habits to acquire, young friend ! 
But on this proof of your obedient temper 
I must continue to insist ; and only 
On this condition can I play the agent 
For your concerns. 


MAX. 


But wherefore comes she not ? 
Where is she? ! 
COUNTESS. 


Into my hands you must place it 
Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed, 
More zealously affected to your interest ? 
No soul on earth must know it — not your father; 
He roust not, above all. 


MAX. 


Alas! what danger ? 
Here is no face on which I might concentre 
All the enraptured soul stirs up within me. 
O lady ! tell me, is all changed around me ? 
Or is it only I? 

I find myself, 

As among strangers! Not a trace is left 
Of all my former wishes, former joys. 
Where has it vanished to? There was a time 
When even, methought, with such a world as this, 
I was not discontented. Now how flat! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 77 


How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it! 
My comrades are intolerable to me. 

My father — even to him I can say nothing. 
My arms, my military duties — O! 

They are such wearying toys! 


COUNTESS. 


But, gentle friend ! 
I must entreat it of your condescension, 
You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour 
With one short glance or two this poor stale world, 
Where even now much, and of much moment, 
Is on the eve of its completion. 


MAX. 


Something, 
T can’t but know is going forward round me. 
I see it gathering, crowding, driving on, 
In wild uncustomary movements. Well, 
In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me. 
Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay, 
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp, 
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in, 
The pointless jest, the empty conversation, 
Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air — 
I could not breathe — I was constrained to fly, 
To seek a silence out for my full heart ; 
And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness. 
No smiling, countess! In the church was I. 
There is a cloister here “ To the heaven’s gate,” ! 
Thither I went, there found myself alone. 
Over the altar hung a holy mother ; 


1T am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister, 
or the name of one of the city gates, near which it stood. I have 
translated it in the former sense ; but fearful of having made some 
blunder, I add the original, — Es ist ein Kloster hier zur Him- 
melspforte. 


78 THE PICCOLOMINI 


A wretched painting ’twas, yet ‘twas the friend 
That I was seeking in this moment. Ah, 
How oft have I beheld that glorious form 

In splendour, ‘mid ecstatic worshippers ; 

Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once 
Was my devotion cloudless as my love. 


COUNTESS. 


Enjoy your fortune and felicity ! 

Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship 
Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active. 

Only be manageable when that friendship 

Points you the road to full accomplishment. 


MAX. 


But where abides she then? Oh, golden time 
Of travel, when each morning sun united 

And but the coming night divided us; 

Then ran no sand, then struck no hour for us, 

And time, in our excess of happiness, 

Seemed on its course eternal to stand still. 

Oh, he hath fallen from out his heaven of bliss 
Who can descend to count the changing hours, 
No clock strikes ever for the happy! 


COUNTESS. 
How long is it since you declared your passion ? 
MAX. 
This morning did I hazard the first word. 


COUNTESS. 
This morning the first time in twenty days ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 79 


MAX. 


"Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here 

And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and — 
That was the last relay of the whole journey ; 

In a balcony we were standing mute, 

And gazing out upon the dreary field: 

Before us the dragoons were riding onward, 

The safeguard which the duke had sent us — heavy ; 
The inquietude of parting lay upon me, 

And trembling ventured I at length these words: 
This all reminds me, noble maiden, that 

To-day I must take leave of my good fortune. 

A few hours more, and you will find a father, 

Will see yourself surrounded by new friends, 

And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger, 

Lost in the many — “ Speak with my Aunt Terzky !” 
With hurrying voice she interrupted me. 

She faltered. I beheld a glowing red 

Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground 
Raised slowly up her eye met mine — no longer 
Did I control myself. 

[The Princess THEKLA appears at the door, and 
remains standing, observed by the COUNTESS, 
but not by PICCOLOMINI. 

With instant boldness 
I caught her in my arms, my lips touched hers ; 
There was a rustling in the room close by ; 
It parted us — "Twas you. What since has happened 
You know. | 


COUNTESS (after a pause, with a stolen glance at THEKLA). 


And is it your excess of modesty 
Or are you so incurious, that you do not 
Ask me too of my secret ? 


MAX. 
Of your secret ? 


80 THE PICCOLOMINI 


COUNTESS. 


Why, yes! When in the instant after you 

I stepped into the room, and found my niece there ; 
What she in this first moment of the heart 

Taken with surprise — 


MAX. (with eagerness). 
Well? 


ScENE IV. 


THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLO- 
MINI. 


THEKLA (to the COUNTESS). 


Spare yourself the trouble : 
That hears he better from myself. 


MAX. (stepping backward). 


My princess! 
What have you let her hear me say, Aunt Terzky ? 


THEKLA (to the COUNTESS). 
Has he been here long ? 


COUNTESS. 


Yes; and soon must go. 
Where have you stayed so long ? 


THEKLA. 


Alas! my mother 
Wept so again! and I—TI see her suffer, 
Yet cannot keep myself from being happy. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 81 


MAX. 


Now once again I have courage to look on you. 
To-day at noon I could not. 

The dazzle of the jewels that played round you 
Hid the beloved from me. 


THEKLA. 


Then you saw me 
With your eye only — and not with your heart ? 


MAX. 


This morning, when I found you in the circle 

Of all your kindred, in your father’s arms, 

Beheld myself an alien in this circle, 

O! what an impulse felt I in that moment 

To fall upon his neck, to call him father ! 

But his stern eye o’erpowered the swelling passion, 
It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants, 
That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows, 
They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he 
At the first meeting spread as ’twere the ban 

Of excommunication round you, — wherefore 
Dress up the angel as for sacrifice, 

And cast upon the light and joyous heart 

The mournful burden of his station? Fitly 

May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour 
Might none but monarchs venture to approach. 


THEKLA. 


Hush! not a word more of this mummery ; 
You see how soon the burden is thrown off. 
[ Zo the CouNTESS. 
He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not? 
"Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy! 
He had quite another nature on the journey — 


82 THE PICCOLOMINI 


So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent. [Zo Max. 
It was my wish to see you always so, 
And never otherwise ! 


MAX. 


You find yourself 
In your great father’s arms, beloved lady ! 
All ina new world, which does homage to you, 
And which, were’t only by its novelty, 
Delights your eye. 


THEKLA. 


Yes; I confess to you 
That many things delight me here: this camp, 
This motley stage of warriors, which renews 
So manifold the image of my fancy, 
And binds to life, binds to reality, 
What hitherto had but been present to me 
As a sweet dream ! 


MAX. 


Alas! not so to me. 
It makes a dream of my reality. | 
Upon some island in the ethereal heights 
I’ve lived for these last days. This mass of men 
Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge 
That, reconducting to my former life, 
Divides me and my heaven. 


THEKLA. 


The game of life 

Looks cheerful, when one carries in one’s heart 
The unalienable treasure. ’Tis a game, 
Which, having once reviewed, I turn more joyous 
Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss. 

[Breaking off, and in a sportive tone. 
In this short time that Pve been present here. 
What new unheard-of things have I not seen ; 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


And yet they all must give place to the wond 
Which this mysterious castle guards. 


COUNTESS (recollecting). 


And what 
Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted 
With all the dusky corners of this house. 


THEKLA (smiling). 


Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits, 
Two griffins still stand sentry at the door. 


COUNTESS (laughs). 


The astrological tower! How happens it 
That this same sanctuary, whose access 
Is to all others so impracticable, 

Opens before you even at your approach ? 


THEKLA. 


A dwarfish old man with a friendly face 
And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services 
Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors. 


MAX. 
That is the duke’s astrologer, old Seni. 


THEKLA. 


He questioned me on many points; for instance, 
When I was born, what month, and on what day, 
Whether by day or in the night. 


COUNTESS. 


He wished 
To erect a figure for your horoscope. 


83 


84 THE PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA. 


My hand too he examined, shook his head 
With much sad meaning, and the lines, methought, 
Did not square over truly with his wishes. 


COUNTESS. 


Well, princess, and what found you in this tower ? 
My highest privilege has been to snatch 
A side-glance, and away ! 


THEKLA. 


It was a strange 
Sensation that came o’er me, when at first 
From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now 
The narrowing line of daylight, that ran after 
The closing door, was gone; and all about me 
"Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows 
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven 
Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me 
In a half-circle. Each one in his hand 
A sceptre bore, and on his head a star; 
And in the tower no other light was there 
But from these stars, all seemed to come from them. 
“These are the planets,” said that low old man, 
“They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 
Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you, 
Spiteful and cold, an old man melancholy, 
With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn. 
He opposite, the king with the red light, 
An armed man for the battle, that is Mars; 
And both these bring but little luck to man.” 
But at his side a lovely lady stood, 
The star upon her head was soft and bright, 
Oh, that was Venus, the bright star of joy. 
And the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings 
Quite in the middle glittered silver bright. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 85 


A cheerful man, and with a monarch’s mien ; 
And this was Jupiter, my father’s star: 
And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon. 


MAX. 

Oh, never rudely will I blame his faith 
In the might of stars and angels. “Tis not merely 
The human being’s pride that peoples space 
With hfe and mystical predominance ; 
Since likewise for the stricken heart of love 
This visible nature, and this common world, 
Is all too narrow; yea, a deeper import 
Lurks in the legend told my infant years 
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn. 
For fable is love’s world, his home, his birthplace ; 
Delightedly dwells he among fays and talismans, 
And spirits; and delightedly believes 
Divinities, being himself divine. 
The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion, 
The power, the beauty, and the majesty, 
That had her haunts in dale, or pmy mountain, 
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms, and watery depths, all these have vanished. 
They live no longer in the faith of reason! 
But still the heart doth need a language, still 
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names 
And to yon starry world they now are gone, 
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth 
With man as with their friend, and to the lover 
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky 
Shoot influence down: and even at this day 
’Tis Jupiter who brings whate’er is great, 
And Venus who brings everything that’s fair! 

No more of talk, where god or angel guest 


With man, as with his friend familiar, used 
To sit indulgent. —Paradise Lost, B. ix. 


86 THE PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA. 


And if this be the science of the stars, 

I too, with glad and zealous industry, 

Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith. 
It is a gentle and affectionate thought, 

That in immeasurable heights above us, 

At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven, 
With sparkling stars for flowers. 


COUNTESS. 


Not only roses 
But thorns too hath the heaven, and well for you 
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate: 
What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune, 
The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces. 


MAX. 


Soon will this gloomy empire reach its close. 
Blest be the general’s zeal: into the laurel 

Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting 
Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish 
Will have remained for his great heart! Enough 
Has he performed for glory, and can now 

Live for himself and his. To his domains 

Will he retire; he has a stately seat 

Of fairest view at Gitschin; Reichenberg, 

And Friedland Castle, both le pleasantly ; 

Even to the foot of the huge mountains here 
Stretches the chase and covers of his forests: 

His ruling passion to create the splendid 

He can indulge without restraint ; can give 

A princely patronage to every art, 

And to all worth a sovereign’s protection. 

Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses — 


THE PICCOLOMINI 87 


COUNTESS. 


Yet I would have you look, and look again, 
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend ! 

A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it, 

That you should woo and win her with the sword. 


MAX. 
Oh, that the sword could win her! 


COUNTESS. 


What was that ? 
Did you hear nothing? Seemed as if I heard 
Tumult and larum in the banquet-room. 
{ Hait COUNTESS. 


SCENE V. 
THEKLA and Max. PICCOLOMINI. 


THEKLA (as soon as the COUNTESS 1s out of sight, in 
a quick, low voice to PICCOLOMINI). 


Don’t trust them! They are false! 


MAX. 
Impossible ! 
THEKLA. 


Trust no one here but me. I saw at once, 
They had a purpose. 
MAX. 


Purpose! but what purpose ? 
And ee can we be instrumental to it ? 
THEKLA. 


I know no more than you; but yet believe me: 
There’s some design in this; to make us happy, 


88 HE PICCOLOMINI 


To realise our union — trust me, love! 
They but pretend to wish it. 


MAX. 


But these Terzkys — 
Why use we them at all? Why not your mother? 
Excellent creature! she deserves from us 
A full and filial confidence. 


THEKLA. 


She doth love you, 
Doth rate you high before all others — but — 
But such a secret — she would never have 
The courage to conceal it from my father. 
For her own peace of mind we must preserve it 
A secret from her too. 


MAX. 


Why any secret ? 
I love not secrets. Mark what I will do. 
Tll throw me at your father’s feet — let him 
Decide upon my fortunes! He is true, 
He wears no mask — he hates all crooked ways — 
He is so good, so noble! 


THEKLA (falls on his neck). 
That are you! 


MAX. 


You knew him only since this morn! but I 
Have lived ten years already in his presence ; 
And who knows whether in this very moment 
He is not merely waiting for us both 

To own our loves in order to unite us ? 


THE PICCOLOMINI 89 


You are silent ! 
You look at me with such a hopelessness ! 
What have you to object against your father ? 


THEKLA. 


I? Nothing. Only he’s so occupied — 

He has no leisure time to think about 

The happiness of us two. [Taking his hand tenderly. 
Follow me! 

Let us not place too great a faith in men. 

These Terzkys — we will still be grateful to them 

For every kindness, but not trust them further 

Than they deserve ;— and in all else rely 

On our own hearts! 


MAX. 
O! shall we e’er be happy ? 


THEKLA. 


Are we not happy now? Art thou not mine? 
Am I not thine? There lives within my soul 

A lofty courage —’tis love gives it me! 

I ought to be less open — ought to hide 

My heart more from thee — so decorum dictates : 
But where in this place couldst thou seek for truth, 
If in my mouth thou didst not find it ? 

We now have met, then let us hold each other 
Clasped in a lasting and a firm embrace. 

Believe me this was more than their intent. 

Then be our loves like some blest relic kept 
Within the deep recesses of the heart. 

From heaven alone the love has been bestowed, 
To heaven alone our gratitude is due ; 

It can work wonders for us still. 


go THE PICCOLOMINI 


ScENE VI. 
To them enters the COUNTESS TERZKY. 


COUNTESS (in & pressing manner). 


Come, come! 
My husband sends me for you. It is now 
The latest moment. 
[They not appearing to attend to what she says, 
she steps between them. 
Part you! 


THEKLA. 


Oh, not yet! 
It has been scarce a moment. 


COUNTESS. 


Ay! Then time 
Flies swiftly with your highness, princess niece! 


MAX. 
There is no hurry, aunt. 


COUNTESS. 


Away ! away! 
The folks begin to miss you. Twice already 
His father has asked for him. 


THEKLA. 
Ha, his father ! 


COUNTESS. 
You understand that, niece ! 


THE PICCOLOMINI gl 


THEKLA. 


Why needs he 
To go at all to that society ? 
’Tis not his proper company. They may 
Be worthy men, but he’s too young for them ; 
In brief, he suits not such society. 


COUNTESS. 
You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly here ? 


THEKLA (with energy). 


Yes! you have hit it, aunt! That is my meaning, 
Leave him here wholly! Tell the company — 


COUNTESS. 


What! have you lost your senses, niece ? 
Count, you remember the conditions. Come! 


MAX. (to THEKLA). 


Lady, I must obey. Farewell, dear lady! 
[THEKLA turns away from him with a quick 
motion. 


What say you then, dear lady ? 


THEKLA (without looking at him). 
Nothing. Go! 


MAX. 


Can I, when you are angry — 

[He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands 
silent a moment, then throws herself into 
his arms; he presses her fast to his 
heart. 


92 THE PICCOLOMINI 


COUNTESS. 


Off! Heavens! if any one should come! 
Hark! What's that noise? It comes this way. Off! 
[Max. tears himself away out of her arms and 
goes. The COUNTESS accompanies him. THEKLA 
follows him with her eyes at first, walks rest- 
lessly across the room, then stops, and remains 
standing, lost in thought. A guitar les on the 
table, she seizes 1t as by a sudden emotion, and 
after she has played awhile an irregular and 
melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into 
the music and sings. 


ScENE VII. 


THEKLA (plays and sings). 


The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, 

The damsel paces along the shore ; 

The billows, they tumble with might, with might ; 

And she flings out her voice to the darksome night; 
Her bosom is swelling with sorrow ; 

The world it is empty, the heart will die, 

There’s nothing to wish for beneath the sky: 

Thou Holy One, call thy child away ! 

I’ve lived and loved, and that was to-day ; 
Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.! 


17 found it not in my power to translate this song with literal 
fidelity, preserving at the same time the Alcaic movement, and 
have therefore added the original, with a prose translation. Some 
of my readers may be more fortunate. 


THEKLA (spielt und singt). 


Der Eichwald brauset, die Wolken ziehn, 
Das Magdlein wandelt an Ufers Griin ; 
Es bricht sich die Welle mit Macht, mit Macht, 
Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht, 
Das Auge von Weinen getriibet : 


THE PICCOLOMINI 93 


Scene VIIL 
CouNTESS (returns), THEKLA. 


COUNTESS. 


Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him 

Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it, 

And so must be flung after him! For you, 

Duke Friedland’s only child, I should have thought 
It had been more beseeming to have shown yourself 
More chary of your person. 


Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer, 
Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. 
Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zuriick, 
Ich habe genossen das irdische Gliick, 
Ich habe gelebt und geliebet. 


LITERAL TRANSLATION. 


THEKLA (plays and sings). 


The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks to 
and fro on the green of the shore ; the wave breaks with might, 
with might, and she sings out into the dark night, her eye discol- 
oured with weeping: the heart is dead, the world is empty, and 
further gives it nothing more to the wish. Thou Holy One, call 
thy child home. I have enjoyed the happiness of this world, I 
have lived and have loved. 


I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which my 
friend, Charles Lamb, has favoured me, and which appears to me 
to have caught the happiest manner of our old ballads : 


The clouds are blackening, the storms threatening, 
The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan ! 
Billows are breaking, the damsel’s heart aching, 
Thus in the dark night she singeth alone, 
Her eye upward roving : 


The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, 
In this world plainly all seemeth amiss ; 
To thy heaven, Holy One, take home thy little one, 
I have partaken of all earth’s bliss, 
Both living and loving. 


94 THE PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA (rising). 
And what mean you ? 


COUNTESS. 


I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten 
Who you are, and who he is. But perchance 
That never once occurred to you. 


THEKLA. 
What then ? 


COUNTESS. 
That you’re the daughter of the Prince Duke Friedland. 


THEKLA. 
Well, and what farther ? 


COUNTESS. 
What ? a pretty question ! 


THEKLA. 


He was born that which we have but become. 
He’s of an ancient Lombard family, 
Son of a reigning princess. 


COUNTESS. 


Are you dreaming ? 
Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth ! 
We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him 
To honour with his hand the richest heiress 
In Europe. 


THEKLA. 
That will not be necessary. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 95 


COUNTESS. 
Methinks ’twere well, though, not to run the hazard. 


THEKLA. 


His father loves him; Count Octavio 
Will interpose no difficulty — 


COUNTESS. 


His ! 
His father! His! But yours, niece, what of yours ? 


THEKLA. 


Why, I begin to think you fear his father, 
So anxiously you hide it from the man! 
His father, his, 1 mean. 


COUNTESS (looks at her as serutinising). 
Niece, you are false. 


THEKLA. 
Are you then wounded? OQ, be friends with me! 


COUNTESS. 


You hold your game for won already. Do not 
Triumph too soon ! 


THEKLA (interrupting her, and attempting to soothe her). 
Nay now, be friends with me. 


COUNTESS. 
It is not yet so far gone. 


96 THE PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA. 
I believe you. 


COUNTESS. 


Did you suppose your father had laid out 

His most important life in toils of war, 

Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss, 

Had banished slumbers from his tent, devoted 

His noble head to care, and for this only, 

To make a happier pair of you? At length 

To draw you from your convent, and conduct 

In easy triumph to your arms the man 

That chanced to please your eyes! All this, methinks, 
He might have purchased at a cheaper rate. 


THEKLA. 


That which he did not plant for me might yet 
Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord. 

And if my friendly and affectionate fate, 

Out of his fearful and enormous being, 

Will but prepare the joys of life for me — 


COUNTESS. 


Thou see’st it with a lovelorn maiden’s eyes, 

Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art : — 
Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped, 

For no espousals dost thou find the walls 

Decked out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing ; 
Here is no splendour but of arms. Or thinkest thou 
That all these thousands are here congregated 

To lead up the long dances at thy wedding! 

Thou see’st thy father’s forehead full of thought, 
Thy mother’s eye in tears: upon the balance 

Lies the great destiny of all our house. 

Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling ; 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


Oh, thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof 
Thouw’rt the daughter of the mighty — his 

Who where he moves creates the wonderful. 
Not to herself the woman must belong, 

Annexed and bound to alien destinies. 

But she performs the best part, she the wisest, 
Who can transmute the alien into self, 

Meet and disarm necessity by choice ; 

And what must be, take freely to her heart, 
And bear and foster it with mother’s love. 


THEKLA. 
Such ever was my lesson in the convent. 
I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself 
Only as his — his daughter — his, the mighty ! 
His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me 
From the far distance, weakened in my soul 
No other thought than this — I am appointed 
To offer myself up in passiveness to him. 


COUNTESS. 


That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it — 
I and thy mother gave thee the example. 


THEKLA. 


My fate hath shown me him, to whom behoves it 
That I should offer up myself. In gladness 
Him will I follow. 


COUNTESS. 


Not thy fate hath shown him! 
Thy heart, say rather — ’twas the heart, my child! 


THEKLA. 


Faith hath no voice but the heart’s impulses. 
Tam all his! His present — his alone. 


97 


98 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Is this new life, which lives in me? He hath 
A right to his own creature. What was I 
Ere his fair love infused a soul into me? 


COUNTESS. 


Thou wouldst oppose thy father, then, should he 
Have otherwise determined with thy person ? 
[THEKLA ‘remains silent. The COUNTESS continues. 
Thou meanest to force him to thy liking? Child, 
His name is Friedland. 


THEKLA. 


My name too is Friedland. 
He shall have found a genuine daughter in me. 


COUNTESS. 


What ! he has vanquished all impediment, 
And in the wilful mood of his own daughter 
Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child! 
As yet thou hast seen thy father’s smiles alone ; 
The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child, 
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, 
I trust it ne’er shall come. His will is yet 
Unknown to me; ’tis possible his aims 
May have the same direction as thy wish. 
But this can never, never be his will, 
That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, 
Shouldest e’er demean thee as a lovesick maiden 
And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself 
Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever 
Be destined to await him, yet with sacrifices 
The highest love can bring, must pay for it. 

[ Hxvt COUNTESS. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 99 


ScENE IX. 


THEKLA (who during the last speech had been standing 
evidently lost vn her reflections). 


I thank thee for the hint. It turns 
My sad presentiment to certainty. 
And it is so! Not one friend have we here, 
Not one true heart! we’ve nothing but ourselves! 
Oh, she said rightly — no auspicious signs 
Beam on this covenant of our affections. 
This is no theatre where hope abides: 
The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here, 
And love himself, as he were armed in steel, 
Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death. 
| Music from the banquet-room is heard. 
There’s a dark spirit walking in our house. 
And swiftly will the destiny close on us. 
It drove me hither from my calm asylum, 
It mocks my soul with charming witchery, 
It lures me forward in a seraph’s shape, 
I see it near, I see it nearer floating, 
It draws, it pulls me with a god-like power — 
And lo! the abyss — and thither am I moving — 
I have no power within me not to move! 
[The music from the banquet-room becomes louder. 
Oh, when a house is doomed in fire to perish, 
Many and dark Heaven drives his clouds together, 
Yea, shoots his ightnings down from sunny heights, 
Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms, 
And fiends and angels, mingling in their fury, 
Sling firebrands at the burning edifice [H#ait THEKLA. 
1 There are few who will not have taste enough to laugh at the 
two concluding lines of this soliloquy : and still fewer, I would 
fain hope, who would not have been more disposed to shudder, 


had I given a faithful translation. For the readers of German I 
have added the original : 


Blind wiithend schleudert selbst der Gott der Freude 
Den Pechkranz in das brennende Gebaude. 


100 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ACT IV. 
ScENE I. 


A large saloon lighted up with festal splendour ; in the 
midst of wt, and in the centre of the stage, a table 
richly set out, at which eight generals are sitting, 
among whom are OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, TERZKY, 
and MARADAS. ight and left of this, but farther 
back, two other tables, at each of which six persons 
are placed. The middle door, which is standing 
open, gives to the prospect a fourth table with the 
same number of persons. More forward stands 
the sideboard. The whole front of the stage 1s kept 
open for the pages and servants-in-waiting. All 
is an motion. The band of music belonging to 
TERZKY’S regiment march across the stage, and 
draw up around the tables. Before they are quite 
off from the front of the stage, MAx. PICCOLOMINI 
appears, TERZKY advances toward him with a 
paper, ISOLANI comes up to meet him with a beaker, 
or service-cup. 


TERZKY, ISOLANI, MAX. PICCOLOMINI. 


ISOLANI. 


Here, brother, what we love! Why, where hast been ? 
Off to thy place — quick! Terzky here has given 
The mother’s holiday wine up to free booty. 

Here it goes on as at the Heidelberg castle. 

Already hast thou lost the best. They’re giving 

At yonder table ducal crowns in shares ; 

There Sternberg’s lands and chattels are put up, 

With Eggenbereg’s, Stawata’s, Lichtenstein’s, 

And all the great Bohemian feudalities. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 101 


Be nimble, lad! and something may turn up 
For thee, who knows ? off — to thy place ! quick ! march ! 


TIEFENBACH and GOETZ (call out from the second and 
third tables). 


Count Piccolomini! 
TERZKY. 


Stop, ye shall have him in an instant. Read 
This oath here, whether as ’tis here set forth, 
The wording satisfies you. They’ve all read it, 
Each in his turn, and each one will subscribe 
His individual signature. 


MAX. (reads). 
“ Ingratis servire nefas.” 


ISOLANI. 


That sounds to my ears very much like Latin, 
And being interpreted, pray what may it mean ? 


TERZKY. 
No honest man will serve a thankless master. 


MAX. 


“Inasmuch as our supreme commander, the illus- 
trious Duke of Friedland, in consequence of the mani- 
fold affronts and grievances which he has received, had 
expressed his determination to quit the emperor, but 
on our unanimous entreaty has graciously consented 
to remain still with the army, and not to part from us 
without our approbation thereof, so we, collectively and 
each in particular, in the stead of an oath personally 
taken, do hereby oblige ourselves — likewise by him 
honourably and faithfully to hold, and in nowise what- 


102 THE PICCOLOMINI 


soever from him to part, and to be ready to shed for his 
interests the last drop of our blood, so far, namely, as 
our oath to the emperor will permit u. (These last words 
are repeated by ISOLANI.) In testimony of which we 
subscribe our names.” 


TERZKY. 
Now! are you willing to subscribe to this paper ? 


ISOLANI. 


Why should he not? All officers of honour 
Can do it, ay, must do it. Pen and ink here! 


TERZKY. 
Nay, let it rest till after meal. 


ISOLANI (drawing MAX. along). 
Come, Max. [Both seat themselves at their table. 


ScENE II. 
TERZKY, NEUMANN. 


TERZKY (beckons to NEUMANN, who is waiting at the 
side-table and steps forward with him to the edge 
of the stage). 


Have you the copy with you, Neumann? Give it. 
It may be changed for the other ? 


NEUMANN. 


I have copied it 
Letter by letter, line by line; no eye 
Would e’er discover other difference, 


THE PICCOLOMINI 103 


Save only the omission of that clause, 
According to your excellency’s order. 


TERZKY. 


Right! lay it yonder and away with this — 
It has performed its business — to the fire with it. 
[NEUMANN lays the copy on the table, and steps 
back again to the side-table. 


ScENE ITI. 
ILLO (comes out from the second chamber), TERZKY. 


ILLO. 
How goes it with young Piccolomini ? 


TERZKY. 
All right, I think. He has started no object. 


ILLO. 


He is the only one I fear about — 
He and his father. Have an eye on both. 


TERZKY. 


How looks it at your table: you forget not 
To keep them warm and stirring ? 


ILLO. 


Oh, quite cordial, 
They are quite cordial in the scheme. We have them, 
And ’tis as I predicted too. Already 
It is the talk, not merely to maintain 
The duke in station. “Since we’re once for all 
Together and unanimous, why not,” 


104 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Says Montecuculi, “ay, why not onward, 

And make conditions with the emperor 

There in his own Vienna?” Trust me, count, 
Were it not for these said Piccolomini, 

We might have spared ourselves the cheat. 


TERZKY. 


And Butler ? 
How goes it there? Hush! 


SceNE IV. 
To them enter BUTLER from a second table. 


BUTLER. 


Don’t disturb yourselves ; 
Field-marshal, I have understood you perfectly. 
Good luck be to the scheme; and as to me, 
[Wath an air of mystery. 
You may depend upon me. 


ILLO (with vivacity). 
May we, Butler ? 


BUTLER. 


With or without the clause, all one to me! 

You understand me! My fidelity 

The duke may put to any proof — I’m with him! 
Tell him so! Tm the emperor’s officer, 

As long as ’tis his pleasure to remain 

The emperor’s general! and Friedland’s servant, 
As soon as it shall please him to become 

His own lord. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


TERZKY. 


You would make a good exchange. 
No stern economist, no Ferdinand, 
Is he to whom you plight your services. 


BUTLER (with a haughty look). 


I do not put up my fidelity 

To sale, Count Terzky! Half a year ago 

I would not have advised you to have made me 
An overture to that to which I now 

Offer myself of my own free accord. 

But that is past! and to the duke, field-marshal, 
I bring myself, together with my regiment. 
And mark you, ’tis my humour to believe, 

The example which I give will not remain 
Without an influence. 


ILLO. 


Who is ignorant, 
That the whole army looks to Colonel Butler 
As to a light that moves before them ? 


BUTLER. 


Ay? 
Then I repent me not of that fidelity 
Which for the length of forty years I held, 
If in my sixtieth year my good old name 
Can purchase. for me a revenge so full. 
Start not at what I say, sir generals! 
My real motives — they concern not you. 
And you yourselves, I trust, could not expect 


105 


That this your game had crooked my judgment — or 


That fickleness, quick blood, or such like cause, 


Has driven the old man from the track of honour, 


Which he so long had trodden. Come, my friends! 


I’m not thereto determined with less firmness, 


106 THE PICCOLOMINI 


Because I know and have looked steadily 
At that on which I have determined. 


ILLO. 
Say, 
And speak roundly, what are we to deem you ? 


BUTLER. 


A friend! I give you here my hand! I’m yours 
With all I have. Not only men, but money 
Will the duke want. Go, tell him, sirs! 

[ve earned and laid up somewhat in his service, 
I lend it him; and is he my survivor, 

It has been already long ago bequeathed to him; 
He is my heir. For me, I stand alone 

Here in the world; naught know I of the feeling 
That binds the husband to a wife and children. 
My name dies with me, my existence ends. 


ILLO. 


‘Tis not your money that he needs —a heart 
Like yours weighs tons of gold down, weighs down 
millions! 


BUTLER. 


I came a simple soldier’s boy from Ireland 

To Prague — and with a master, whom I buried. 
From lowest stable duty I climbed up, 

Such was the fate of war, to this high rank, 
The plaything of a whimsical good fortune. 

And Wallenstein too is a child of luck: 

I love a fortune that is like my own. 


ILLO. 
All powerful souls have kindred with each other. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 107 


BUTLER. 


This is an awful moment! to the brave, 

To the determined, an auspicious moment. 

The Prince of Weimar arms, upon the Main, 

To found a mighty dukedom. He of Halberstadt, 
That Mansfeldt, wanted but a longer life 

To have marked out with his good sword a lordship 
That should reward his courage. Who of these 
Equals our Friedland? There is nothing, nothing 
So high, but he may set the ladder to it! 


TERZKY. 
That’s spoken like a man ! 


BUTLER. 


Do you secure the Spaniard and Italian — 
[ll be your warrant for the Scotchman Lesly. 
Come to the company ! 


TERZKY. 


Where is the master of the cellar? Ho! 

Let the best wines come up. Ho! cheerly, boy! 

Luck comes to-day, so give her hearty welcome. 
[Lxeunt, each to his table. 


SCENE V. 


The MASTER OF THE CELLAR, advancing with NEUMANN, 
SERVANTS passing backwards and forwards. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


The best wine! Oh, if my old mistress, his lady 
mother, could but see these wild goings on she would 
turn herself round in her grave. Yes, yes, sir officer ! 


108 THE PICCOLOMINI 


*tis all down the hill with this noble house! no end, no 
moderation! And this marriage with the duke’s sister, 
a splendid connection, a very splendid connection! but 
I will tell you, sir officer, it looks no good. 


NEUMANN. 


Heaven forbid! Why, at this very moment the 
whole prospect is in bud and blossom! 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


You think so? Well, well! much may be said on 
that head. 


FIRST SERVANT (comes). 
Burgundy for the fourth table. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 
Now, sir lieutenant, if this ain’t the seventieth flask — 


FIRST SERVANT. 


Why, the reason is, that German lord, Tiefenbach, 
sits at that table. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (continuing his discourse to 
NEUMANN). 


They are soaring too high. They would rival kings 
and electors in their pomp and splendour; and wher- 
ever the duke leaps, not a minute does my gracious 
master, the count, loiter on the brink — (to the SER- 
VANTS). What do you stand there listening for? I 
will let you know you have legs presently. Off! see 
to the tables, see to the flasks! Look there! Count 
Palfi has an empty glass before him! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 109 


RUNNER (comes). 


The great service-cup is wanted, sir, that rich gold 
cup with the Bohemian arms on it. The count says 
you know which it is. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


Ay! that was made for Frederick’s coronation by 
the artist Wiliam — there was not such another prize 
in the whole booty at Prague. 


RUNNER. 
The same !— a health is to go round in him. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (shaking his head while he 
fetches and rinses the cups). 


This will be something for the tale-bearers — this 
goes to Vienna. 
NEUMANN. 


Permit me to look at it. Well, this is a cup indeed! 
How heavy! as well it may be, being all gold. And 
what neat things are embossed on it! how natural and 
elegant they look! There, on the first quarter, let me 
see. That proud amazon there on horseback, she that 
is taking a leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries 
on a wand a hat together with a banner, on which 
there’s a goblet represented. Can you tell me what all 
this signifies ? 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


The woman you see there on horseback is the Free 
Election of the Bohemian Crown. That is signified by 
the round hat and by that fiery steed on which she is 
riding. The hat is the pride of man; for he who 
cannot keep his hat on before kings and emperors is no 
free man. 


IIo THE PICCOLOMINI 


NEUMANN. 
But what is the cup there on the banner. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


The cup signifies the freedom of the Bohemian 
Church, as it was in our forefathers’ times. Our fore- 
fathers in the wars of the Hussites forced from the 
Pope this noble privilege ; for the Pope, you know, will 
not grant the cup to any layman. Your true Moravian 
values nothing beyond the cup; it is his costly jewel, 
and has cost the Bohemians their precious blood in 
many and many a battle. 


NEUMANN. 


And what says that chart that hangs in the air 
there, over it all ? 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


That signifies the Bohemian letter-royal which we 
forced from the Emperor Rudolph — a precious, never 
to be enough valued parchment, that secures to the 
new church the old privileges of free ringing and open 
psalmody. But since he of Steiermark has ruled over 
us that is at an end; and after the battle at Prague, in 
which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown and empire, 
our faith hangs upon the pulpit and the altar — and 
our brethren look at their homes over their shoulders ; 
but the letter-royal the emperor himself cut to pieces 
with his scissors. 


NEUMANN. 


Why, my good Master of the Cellar! you are deep 
read in the chronicles of your country. 


THE PICCOLOMINI II! 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


So were my forefathers, and for that reason were 
they minstrels, and served under Procopius and Ziska. 
Peace be with their ashes! Well, well! they fought 
for a good cause though. There! carry it up! 


NEUMANN. 


Stay ! let me but look at this second quarter. Look 
there! That is, when at Prague Castle, the imperial 
counsellors, Martinitz and Stawata, were hurled down 
head over heels. “Tis even so! there stands Count 
Thur who commands it. 

[RUNNER takes the service-cup and goes off with it. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 


Oh, let me never more hear of that day. It was the 
three and twentieth of May in the year of our Lord one 
thousand six hundred and eighteen. It seems to me 
as it were but yesterday — from that unlucky day it 
all began, all the heartaches of the country. Since 
that day it is now sixteen years, and there has never 
once been peace on the earth. 

[Health drunk aloud at the second table. 

The Prince of Weimar! Hurrah! 

[At the third and fourth tables. 

Long live Prince William! Long live Duke Bernard ! 
Hurrah ! [Music strikes up. 

FIRST SERVANT. 


Hear ’em! Hear ’em! What an uproar! 


SECOND SERVANT (comes in running). 


Did you hear? They have drunk the Prince of 
Weimar’s health. 
| THIRD SERVANT. 


The Swedish chief commander! 


112 THE PICCOLOMINI 


FIRST SERVANT (speaking at the same time). 
The Lutheran ! 


SECOND SERVANT. 


Just before, when Count Deodati gave out the 
emperor's health, they were all as mum as a nibbling 
mouse. 

MASTER OF THE CELLAR. 

Po, po! When the wine goes in strange things come 
out. A good servant hears, and hears not! You should 
be nothing but eyes and feet, except when you are 
called to. 

SECOND SERVANT. 

[Zo the RUNNER, to whom he gives secretly a flask 
of wine, keeping his eye on the MASTER OF 
THE CELLAR, standing between him and the 
RUNNER. 

Quick, Thomas! before the Master of the Cellar 
runs this way; ’tis a flask of Frontignac! Snapped it 
up at the third table. Canst go off with it ? 


RUNNER (hides vt in his pocket). 
All right! [Hart the SECOND SERVANT. 


THIRD SERVANT (aside to the FIRST). 


Be on the hark, Jack! that we may have right 
plenty to tell to Father Quivoga. He will give us 
right plenty of absolution in return for it. 


FIRST SERVANT. 


For that very purpose I am always having some- 
thing to do behind Illo’s chair. He is the man for 
speeches to make you stare with. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 113 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (f0 NEUMANN). 


Who, pray, may that swarthy man be, he with the 
cross, that is chatting so confidently with Esterhats ? 


NEUMANN. 


Ay, he too is one of those to whom they confide too 
much. He ¢alls himself Maradas; a Spaniard is he. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (impatiently). 


Spaniard! Spaniard! I tell you, friend, nothing 
good comes of those Spaniards. All these outlandish 
fellows are little better than rogues. 


NEUMANN. 


Fy, fy! you should not say so, friend. There are 
among them our very best generals, and those on 
whom the duke at this moment relies the most. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (Taking the flask out of the 
RUNNER'S pocket). 


My son, it will be broken to pieces in your pocket. 
[TERZKY hurries in, fetches away the paper, and 
calls to a servant for pen and ink, and goes 
to the back of the stage. 


MASTER OF THE CELLAR (to the SERVANTS). 


The lieutenant-general stands up. Be on the watch. 
Now! They break up. Off, and move back the forms. 
[They rise at all the tables, the SERVANTS hurry 
off the front of the stage to the tables; part 

of the guests come forward. 


114 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ScENE VI. 


OcCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI enters, in conversation with MARA- 
DAS, and both place themselves quite on the edge of 
the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the 
side directly opposite, MAx. PICCOLOMINI, by him- 
self, lost in thought, and taking no part in any- 
thing that is going forward. The middle space 
between both, but rather more distant from the 
edge of the stage, is filled up by BUTLER, ISOLANI, 
GoETZ, TIEFENBACH, and KOLATTO. 


ISOLANI (while the company 1s coming forward). 
Good-night, good-night, Kolatto! Good-night, lieu- 
tenant-general! I should rather say good-morning. 
GOETZ (to TIEFENBACH). 


Noble brother! (making the usual compliment after 
meals). 
TIEFENBACH. 


Ay! twas a royal feast indeed. 


GOETZ. 


Yes, my lady countess understands these matters. 
Her mother-in-law, heaven rest her soul, taught her! 
Ah! that was a housewife for you! 


TIEFENBACH. 


There was not her like in all Bohemia for setting 
out a table. 


OCTAVIO (aside to MARADAS). 


Do me the favour to talk to me — talk of what you 
will — or of nothing. Only preserve the appearance 


THE PICCOLOMINI 11s 


at least of talking. I would not wish to stand by 
myself, and yet I conjecture that there will be goings 
on here worthy of our attentive observation. (He con- 
tunues to fix his eye on the whole following scene.) 


ISOLANI (on the point of going). 
Lights! lights ! 


TERZKY (advances with the paper to ISOLANI). 


Noble brother; two minutes longer! Here is some- 
thing to subscribe. 
ISOLANI. 


Subscribe as much as you like— but you must ex- 
cuse me from reading it. 


TERZKY. 


There is no need. It is the oath which you have 
already read. Only a few marks of your pen! 
[IsoLANI hands over the paper to OCTAVIO respect- 


Sully. 
TERZKY. 


Nay, nay, first come, first served. There is no pre- 
eedence here. 


[OcTavIo runs over the paper with apparent in- 
difference. TERZKY watches him at some dts- 
tance. 


GOETZ (to TERZKY). 
Noble count! with your permission — good-night. 


TERZKY. 


Where’s the hurry? Come, one other composing 
draught. (Zo the SERVANTS.) Ho! 


116 THE PICCOLOMINI 


GOETZ. 
Excuse me —ain’t able. 


TERZKY. 


A thimble-full ! 
GOETZ. 


Excuse me. 
TIEFENBACH (sits down). 
Pardon me, nobles! This standing does not agree 
with me. 
TERZKY. 


Consult your own convenience, general. 


TIEFENBACH. 


Clear at head, sound in stomach—only my legs 
won't carry me any longer. 


ISOLANI (pointing at has corpulence). 


Poor legs! how should they! Such an unmerciful 
load ! 
[OcTAVIO subscribes his name, and reaches over the 
paper to TERZKY, who gives it to ISOLANI; 
and he goes to the table to sign his name. 


TIEFENBACH. 


"Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought it on. 
Out in all weathers —ice and snow —no help for it. 
I shall never get the better of it all the days of my 
life. 


GOETZ. 


Why, in simple verity, your Swedes make no nice 
inquiries about the season. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 117 


TERZKY (observing ISOLANI, whose hand trembles exces- 
sively so that he can scarce direct his pen). 


Have you had that ugly complaint long, noble 
brother ? Despatch it. 


ISOLANI. 


~ The sins of youth! I have already tried the chalyb- 
eate waters. Well— I must bear it. 
[TERZKY gives the paper to MARADAS; he steps to 
the table to subscribe. 


OCTAVIO (advancing to BUTLER). 


You are not overfond of the orgies of Bacchus, 
colonel! I have observed it. You would, I think, 
find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of 
a battle than of a feast. 


BUTLER. 
T must confess tis not in my way. 


OCTAVIO (stepping nearer to him friendlily). 


Nor in mine neither, I can assure you; and I am 
not a little glad, my much-honoured Colonel Butler, 
that we agree so well in our opinions. A half-dozen 
good friends at most, at a small round table, a glass of 
genuine Tokay, open hearts, and a rational conversation 
—- that’s my taste. 


BUTLER. 


And mine, too, when it can be had. 

[ The paper comes to TIEFENBACH, who glances over 
it at the same time with GOETZ and KOLATTO. 
MARADAS in the meantime returns to OCTA- 
vio. All this takes place, the conversation 
with BUTLER proceeding uninterrupted. 


118 THE PICCOLOMINI 


OCTAVIO (introducing MARADAS to BUTLER). 


Don Balthasar Maradas! likewise a man of our 
stamp, and long ago your admirer. [ BuTLER bows. 


OCTAVIO (continuing). 


You are a stranger here —’twas but yesterday you 
arrived — you are ignorant of the ways and means 
here. Tis a wretched place. I know at your age one 
loves to be snug and quiet. What if you move your 
lodgings? Come, be my visitor. (BUTLER makes a 
low bow.) Nay, without compliment! For a friend 
like you I have still a corner remaining. 


BUTLER (coldly). 


Your obliged humble servant, my lord leutenant- 
general. 

[The paper comes to BUTLER, who goes to the table 
to subscribe it. The front of the stage ts 
vacant, so that both the PICCOLOMINIS, each 
on the side where he had been from the com- 
mencement of the scene remain alone. 


OCTAVIO (after having some time watched his son in 
silence, advances somewhat nearer to him). 


You were long absent from us, friend ! 


MAX. 


I — urgent business detained me. 


OCTAVIO. 
And, I observe, you are still absent! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 119 


MAX. 


You know this crowd and bustle always makes me 
silent. 


OCTAVIO (advancing stil nearer). 


May I be permitted to ask what the business was 
that detained you? Terzky knows it without asking. 


MAX. 
What does Terzky know ? 


OCTAVIO. 
He was the only one who did not miss you. 


ISOLANI (who has been attending to them for some dis- 
tance steps wp). 


Well done, father! Rout out his baggage! Beat 
up his quarters! there is something there that should 
not be. 


TERZKY (with the paper). 
Is there none wanting? Have the whole subscribed ? 


OCTAVIO. 
All. 
TERZKY (calling aloud). 


Ho! Who subscribes ? 


BUTLER (t0 TERZKY). 
Count the names. There ought to be just thirty. 


TERZKY. 
Here 18 @ Cross. 


TIEFENBACH. 
That’s my mark! 


120 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ISOLANI. 


He cannot write; but his cross is a good cross, and 
is honoured by Jews as well as Christians. 


OCTAVIO (presses on to MAX.). 
Come, general! let us go. It is late. 


TERZKY. 
One Piccolomini only has signed. 


ISOLANI (pointing to MAX). 


Look ! that is your man, that statue there, who has had 
neither eye, ear, nor tongue for us the whole evening. 
[ Max. receives the paper from TERZKY, which he 
looks wpon vacantly. 


Scene VIL. 


To these enter ItLo from the wmner room. He has 
in his hand a golden service-cup, and rs extremely 
distempered with drinking; GOETZ and BUTLER 
follow him, endeavouring to keep him back. 


ILLO. 
What do you want! Let me go. 


GOETZ and BUTLER. 


Drink no more, lo! For heaven’s sake, drink no 
more. 


ILLO (goes wp to OCTAVIO and shakes him cordially by 


the hand, and then drinks). 


Octavio! I bring this to you! Let all grudge be 
drowned in this friendly bowl! I know well enough 


THE PICCOLOMINI 121 


you never loved me—devil take me! and I never 
loved you! I am always even with people in that 
way! Let what’s past be past — that is, you under- 
stand — forgotten! I esteem you infinitely. (Hm- 
bracing him repeatedly.) You have not a dearer friend 
on earth than I, but that you know. The fellow that 
cries rogue to you calls me villam, and Ill strangle 
him! my dear friend! 


TERZKY (whispering to him). 
Art in thy senses? For heaven’s sake, Ilo, think 
where you are! 
ILLO (aloud). 


What do you mean? There are none but friends 
here, are there? (Looks around the whole circle with a 
jolly and triumphant air.) Not a sneaker amongst 
us, thank heaven! 


TERZKY (to BUTLER, eagerly). 


Take him off with you, force him off, I entreat you, 
Butler ! 


BUTLER (¢o ILLO). 


Field-marshal! a word with you. (Leads to the side- 
board.) 


ILLO (cordially). 


A thousand for one. Fill; fill it once more up to 
the brim. To this gallant man’s health! 


ISOLANI (40 MAX. who all the while has been staring on 
the paper with fixed but vacant eyes). 


Slow and sure, my noble brother! Hast parsed it 
all yet? Some words yet to go through? Ha? 


122 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. (waking as from a dream). 
What am I to do? 


TERZKY, and at the same tume ISOLANI. 


Sign your name. 
[Octavio directs his eyes on him with intense anaxvety. 


MAX. (returns the paper). 


Let it stay till to-morrow. It is business; to-day 
I am not sufficiently collected. Send it to me to- 
morrow. 


TERZKY. 
Nay, collect yourself a little. 


ISOLANTI. 


Awake man, awake! Come, thy signature, and have 
done with it! What! Thou art the youngest in the 
whole company, and would be wiser than all of us 


together! Look there! thy father has signed; we 
have all signed. 


TERZKY (¢o OCTAVIO). 
Use your influence. Instruct him. 


OCTAVIO. 
My son is at the age of discretion. 


ILLO (leaves the service-cup on the sideboard). 
What’s the dispute ? 


TERZKY 
He declines subscribing the paper. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 123 


MAX. 
I say it may as well stay till to-morrow. 


ILLO. 


It cannot stay. We have all subscribed to it — 
and so must you. You must subscribe. 


MAX. 
Ilo, good-night ! 


ILLO. 


No! you come not off so! The duke shall learn 
who are his friends. [-Ad/ collect around ILLO and Max. 


MAX. 


What my sentiments are toward the duke, the duke 
knows, every one knows — what need of this wild 
stuff ? 


ILLO. 


This is the thanks the duke gets for his partiality 
to Italians and foreigners. Us Bohemians he holds 
for little better than dullards— nothing pleases him 
but what’s outlandish. 


TERZKY (in extreme embarrassment, to the Command- 
ers, who at ILLO’S words give a sudden start as 
preparing to resent them). 


It is the wine that speaks, and not his reason. At- 
tend not to him, I entreat you. 


ISOLANI (with a bitter laugh). 
Wine invents nothing: it only tattles. 


124 THE PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 

He who is not with me is against me. Your tender 
consciences! Unless they can slip out by a back-door, 
by a puny proviso — 

TERZKY (interrupting him). 

He is stark mad — don’t listen to him! 


ILLO (raising his voice to the highest pitch). 


Unless they can slip out by a proviso. What of the 
proviso? The devil take this proviso! 


MAX. (has his attention roused, and looks again into the 
paper). 
What is there here then of such perilous import ? 
You make me curious — I must look closer at it. 


TERZKY (im @ low voice to ILLO). 
What are you doing, lo? You are ruining us. 


TIEFENBACH (#0 KOLATTO). 


Ay, ay! I observed, that before we sat down to 
supper, it was read differently. 


GOETZ. 
Why, I seemed to think so too. 


ISOLANI. 


What do I care for that? Where there stand other 
names mine can stand too. 


TIEFENBACH. 


Before supper there was a certain proviso therein, or 
short clause, concerning our duties to the emperor. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 125 


BUTLER (to one of the commanders). 


For shame, for shame! Bethink you. What is the 
main business here? The question now is, whether we 
shall keep our general, or let him retire. One must 
not take these things too nicely, and overscrupulously. 


ISOLANI (to one of the generals). 


Did the duke make any of these provisos when he 
gave you your regiment ? 


TERZKY (to GOETZ). 


Or when he gave you the office of army-purveyancer, 
which brings you in yearly a thousand pistoles ? 


ILLO. 


He isa rascal who makes us out to be rogues. If 
there be any one that wants satisfaction, let him say 
so, —I am his man. 


TIEFENBACH. 
Softly, softly! °*Twas but a word or two. 


_ -MAX. (having read the paper gives it back). 
Till to-morrow therefore ! 


ILLO (stammering with rage and fury, loses all com- 
mand over himself and presents the paper to MAX. 
with one hand, and his sword wn the other). 


Subscribe — Judas! 
ISOLANI. 
Out upon you, [llo! 


OCTAVIO, TERZKY, BUTLER (all together). 
Down with the sword! 


126 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. (rushes on him suddenly and disarms him, then to 
COUNT TERZKY). 


Take him off to bed! 
[Max. leaves the stage. ILLO cursing and raving 
is held back by some of the officers, and amidst 
a unwersal confusion the curtain drops. 


ACT V. 
ScENE I. 


A Chamber in PIccoLoMIN’’s Mansion. It is Night. 


OcTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. A VALET DE CHAMBRE with 
Lrghts. 


OCTAVIO. 


— And when my son comes in, conduct him hither. 
What is the hour ? 
VALET. 


*Tis on the point of morning. 


OCTAVIO. 


Set down the light. We mean not to undress. 
You may retire to sleep. 

[Hait VALET. OCTAVIO paces, musing, across the 
chamber ; Max. PICCOLOMINI enters wunob- 
served, and looks at his father for some mo- 
ments i silence. 


MAX. 


Art thou offended with me? Heaven knows 
That odious business was no fault of mine. 
"Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature ; 


THE PICCOLOMINI 127 


What thou hast sanctioned, should not, it might seem, 
Have come amiss to me. But— tis my nature — 
Thou know’st that in such matters I must follow 

My own light, not another’s. 


OCTAVIO (goes up to him and embraces him). 


Follow it, 
Oh, follow it still further, my best son! 
To-night, dear boy! it hath more faithfully 
Guided thee than the example of thy father. 


MAX. 
Declare thyself less darkly. 


OCTAVIO. 


I will do so; 
For after what has taken place this night, 
There must remain no secrets ’twixt us two. 
[Both seat themselves. 
Max. Piccolomini! what thinkest thou of 
The oath that was sent round for signatures ? 


MAX. 


I hold it for a thing of harmless import, 
Although I love not these set declarations. 


OCTAVIO. 


And on no other ground hast thou refused 
The signature they fain had wrested from thee ? 


MAX. 


It was a serious business. I was absent — 
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me. 


128 THE PICCOLOMINI 


OCTAVIO. 
Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion ? 


MAX. 
Suspicion! what suspicion? Not the least. 


OCTAVIO. 


Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini ; 
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss. 


MAX. 
I know not what thou meanest. 


OCTAVIO. 


I will tell thee. 
Fain would they have extorted from thee, son, 
The sanction of thy name to villany ; 
Yes, with a single flourish of thy pen, 
Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honour! 


MAX. (77ses). 
Octavio ! 


OCTAVIO. 


Patience! Seat yourself. Much yet 
Hast thou to hear from me, friend! Hast for years 
Lived in incomprehensible illusion. | 
Before thine eyes is treason drawing out 
As black a web as e’er was spun for venom: 
A power of hell o’erclouds thy understanding. 
I dare no longer stand in silence — dare 
No longer see thee wandering on in darkness, 
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 129 


MAX. 
My father ! 

Yet, ere thou speakest, a moment’s pause of thought! 
If your disclosures should appear to be 
Conjectures only — and almost I fear 
They will be nothing further — spare them ! 
Am not in that collected mood at present, 
That I could listen to them quietly. 


OCTAVIO. 


The deeper cause thou hast to hate this light, 

The more impatient cause have I, my son, 

To force it on thee. To the innocence 

And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted thee 

With calm assurance — but I see the net 

Preparing — and it is thy heart itself 

Alarms me, for thine innocence — that secret 
[Miaing his eyes steadfastly on his son’s face. 

Which thou concealest, forces mine from me. 

[Max. attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts 

his eyes to the ground embarrassed. 


OCTAVIO (after a pause). 


Know, then, they are duping thee !— a most foul game 
With thee and with us all — nay, hear me calmly — 
The duke even now is playing. He assumes 

The mask, as if he would forsake the army ; 

And in this moment makes he preparations 

That army from the emperor to steal, 

And carry it over to the enemy! 


MAX. 


That low priest’s legend I know well, but did not 
Expect to hear it from thy mouth. 


130 THE PICCOLOMINI 


OCTAVIO. 
That mouth, 
From which thou hearest it at this present moment, 
Doth warrant thee that it is no priest’s legend. 


MAX. 


How mere a maniac they supposed the duke; 

What, be can meditate ?—— the duke ?—— can dream 
That he can lure away full thirty thousand 

Tried troops and true, all honourable soldiers, 

More than a thousand noblemen among them, 

From oaths, from duty, from their honour lure them, 
And make them all unanimous to do 

A deed that brands them scoundrels ? 


OCTAVIO. : 
Such a deed, 

With such a front of infamy, the duke 

No way desires — what he requires of us 

Bears a far gentler appellation. Nothing 

He wishes but to give the empire peace. 

And so, because the emperor hates this peace, 

Therefore the duke — the duke will force him to it. 

All parts of the empire will he pacify, 

And for his trouble will retain in payment 

(What he has already in his gripe) — Bohemia ! 


MAX. 


Has he, Octavio, merited of us, 
That we — that we should think so vilely of him? 


OCTAVIO. 


What would we think is not the question here, 
The affair speaks for itself — and clearest proofs ! 
Hear me, my son —’tis not unknown to thee, 

In what ill credit with the court we stand. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 131 


But little dost thou know, or guess what tricks, 
What base intrigues, what lying artifices, 

Have been employed — for this sole end — to sow 
Mutiny in the camp! All bands are loosed — 
Loosed all the bands that link the officer 

To his hege emperor, all that bind the soldier 
Affectionately to the citizen. 

Lawless he stands, and threateningly beleaguers 
The state he’s bound to guard. To such a height 
Tis swollen, that at this hour the emperor 

Before his armies — his own armies — trembles ; 
Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears 

The traitor’s poniard, and is meditating 

To hurry off and hide his tender offspring — 

Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans — no, 
From his own troops to hide and hurry them! 


MAX. 


Cease, cease ! thou torturest, shatterest me. I know 
That oft we tremble at an empty terror ; 
But the false phantasm brings a real misery. 


OCTAVIO. 


It is no phantasm. An intestine war, 

Of all the most unnatural and cruel, 

Will burst out into flames, if instantly 

We do not fly and stifle it. The generals 
Are many of them long ago won over; 
The subalterns are vacillating ; whole 
Regiments and garrisons are vacillating. 
To foreigners our strongholds are intrusted ; 
To that suspected Schafgotch is the whole 
Force of Silesia given up: to Terzky 

Five regiments, foot and horse ; to Isolani, 
To Ilo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops. 


132 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. 
Likewise to both of us. 


OCTAVIO. 


Because the duke 
Believes he has secured us, means to lure us 
Still further on by splendid promises. 
To me he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz 
And Sagan ; and too plain I see the bait 
With which he doubts not but to catch thee. 


MAX. 
No! no! 
I tell thee, no! 
OCTAVIO. 


Oh, open yet thine eyes! 
And to what purpose think’st thou he has called 
Hither to Pilsen ? to avail himself 
Of our advice? Oh, when did Friedland ever 
Need our advice? Be calm, and listen to me. 
To sell ourselves are we called hither, and 
Decline we that, to be his hostages. 
Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof; 
Thy father, too, thou wouldst not have seen here, 
If higher duties had not held him fettered. 


MAX. 


He makes no secret, of it — needs make none — 
That we're called hither for his sake — he owns it. 
He needs our aidance to maintain himself — 

He did so much for us; and ’tis but fair 

That we, too, should do somewhat now for him. 


OCTAVIO. 


And know’st thou what it is which we must do? 
That Illo’s drunken mood betrayed it to thee. 


———_——— 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


Bethink thyself, what hast thou heard, what seen ? 
The counterfeited paper, the omission 

Of that particular clause, so full of meaning, 

Does it not prove that they would bind us down 
To nothing good ? 


MAX. 


That counterfeited paper 
Appears to me no other than a trick 
Of Illo’s own device. These underhand 
Traders in great men’s interests ever use 
To urge and hurry all things to the extreme. 
They see the duke at variance with the court, 
And fondly think to serve him, when they widen 
The breach irreparably. Trust me, father, 
The duke knows nothing of all this. 


OCTAVIO. 

It grieves me 
That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter 
A faith so specious ; but I may not spare thee! 
For this is not a time for tenderness. 
Thou must take measures, speedy ones, must act. 
I therefore will confess to thee that all 
Which I’ve intrusted to thee now, that all 
Which seems to thee so unbelievable, 


That — yes, I will tell thee (a pause) Max.! I had it all 
From his own mouth, from the duke’s mouth I had it. 


MAX (in excessive agitation). 
No! no! never! 
OCTAVIO. 
Himself confided to me 
What I, ’tis true, had long before discovered 


By other means; himself confided to me, 
That ‘twas his settled plan to jom the Swedes; 


134 THE PICCOLOMINI 


And, at the head of the united armies, 
Compel the emperor — 
MAX. 


He is passionate, 
The court has stung him; he is sore all over 
With injuries and affronts ; and in a moment 
Of irritation, what if he, for once, 
Forgot himself? He’s an impetuous man. 


OCTAVIO. 


Nay, in cold blood he did confess this to me: 
And having construed my astonishment 

Into a scruple of his power, he showed me 

His written evidences — showed me letters, 
Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave 
Promise of aidance, and defined the amount. 


MAX. 


It cannot be !— cannot be! cannot be! 

Dost thou not see, it cannot! 

Thou wouldst of necessity have shown him 
Such horror, such deep loathing — that or he 
Had taken thee for his better genius, or 

Thou stood’st not now a living man before me. 


OCTAVIO. - 


I have laid open my objections to him, 

Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness ; 

But my abhorrence, the full sentiment 

Of my whole heart — that I have still kept sacred 
To my own consciousness. 


MAX. 


And thow hast been 
So treacherous? That looks not like my father! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 


I trusted not thy words, when thou didst tell me 
Evil of him; much less can I now do it, 
That thou calumniatest thy own self. 


OCTAVIO. 
I did not thrust myself into his secrecy. 


MAX. 
Uprightness merited his confidence. 


OCTAVIO. 


He was no longer worthy of sincerity. 


MAX. 


Dissimulation, sure, was still less worthy 
Of thee, Octavio! 


OCTAVIO. 


Gave I him a cause 
To entertain a scruple of my honour ? 


MAX. 
That he did not evinced his confidence. 


OCTAVIO. 


Dear son, it is not always possible 

Still to preserve that infant purity 

Which the voice teaches in our inmost heart, 

Still in alarm, for ever on the watch 

Against the wiles of wicked men: e’en virtue 

Will sometimes bear away her outward robes 

Soiled in the wrestle with iniquity. 

This is the curse of every evil deed 

That, propagating still, it brings forth evil. 

I do not cheat my better soul with sophisms; 


133 


136 THE PICCOLOMINI 


I but perform my orders ; the emperor 

Prescribes my conduct to me. Dearest boy, 

Far better were it, doubtless, if we all 

Obeyed the heart at all times; but so doing, 

In this our present sojourn with bad men, 

We must abandon many an honest object. 

"Tis now our call to serve the emperor ; 

By what means he can best be served — the heart 
May whisper what it will — this is our call! 


MAX. 


It seems a thing appointed, that to-day 

I should not comprehend, nor understand thee. 
The duke, thou sayest, did honestly pour out 
His heart to thee, but for an evil purpose: 

And thou dishonestly hast cheated him 

For a good purpose! Silence, I entreat thee — 
My friend, thou stealest not from me — 

Let me not lose my father! 


OCTAVIO (suppressing resentment). 


As yet thou knowest not all, my son. I have 

Yet somewhat to disclose to thee. [After a pause. 
Duke Friedland 

Hath made his preparations. He relies 

Upon the stars. He deems us unprovided, 

And thinks to fall upon us by surprise. 

Yea, in his dream of hope, he grasps already 

The golden circle in his hand. He errs, 

We, too, have been in action — he but grasps 

His evil fate, most evil, most mysterious! 


MAX. 


Oh, nothing rash, my sire! By all that’s good, 
Let me invoke thee — no precipitation ! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 137 


OCTAVIO. 


With light tread stole he on his evil way, 

And light of tread hath vengeance stole on after him. 
Unseen she stands already, dark behind him — 

But one step more — he shudders in her grasp! 

Thou hast seen Questenberg with me. As yet 

Thou knowest but his ostensible commission : 

He brought with him a private one, my son! 

And that was for me only. 


MAX. 
May I know it? 


OCTAVIO (seizes the patent). 
Max. ! 
[A pause. 

— In this disclosure place I in thy hands 
The empire’s welfare and thy father’s life. 
Dear to thy inmost heart is Wallenstein: 
A powerful tie of love, of veneration, 
Hath knit thee to him from thy earliest youth. 
Thou nourishest the wish, — O let me still 
Anticipate thy loitermg confidence! 
The hope thou nourishest to knit thyself 
Yet closer to him — 


MAX. 
Father — 


OCTAVIO. 


Oh, my son! 
I trust thy heart undoubtingly. But am I 
Equally sure of thy collectedness ? 
Wilt thou be able, with calm countenance, 
To enter this man’s presence, when that I 
Have trusted to thee his whole fate ? 


138 THE PICCOLOMINI 


MAX. 
According 
As thou dost trust me, father, with his crime. 
[Octavio takes a paper out of his escritoire and 
gives wt to him. 
MAX. 


What! how! a full imperial patent ! 


OCTAVIO. 
Read it. 


MAX. (just glances on 1). 
Duke Friedland sentenced and condemned ! 


OCTAVIO. 
Even so 
MAX. (throws down the paper). 


Oh, this is too much! O unhappy error! 


OCTAVIO. 
Read on. Collect thyself. 


MAX. (after he has read further, with a look of affright 
and astonishment on his father). 


How! what! Thou! thou! 


OCTAVIO. 


But for the present moment, till the King 
Of Hungary may safely join the army, 
Js the command assigned to me. 


MAX. 
And think’st thou, 
Dost thou believe, that thou will tear it from him ? 
Oh, never hope it! Father! father! father ! 


THE PICCOLOMINI 139 


An inauspicious office is enjoined thee. 
This paper here !— this! and wilt thou enforce it ? 
The mighty in the middle of his host, 
Surrounded by his thousands, him wouldst thou 
Disarm — degrade! Thou art lost, both thou and all 
of us. 
OCTAVIO. 


What hazard I incur thereby, I know. 

In the great hand of God I stand. The Almighty 
Will cover with his shield the imperial house, 
And shatter, in his wrath, the work of darkness. 
The emperor hath true servants still; and even 
Here in the camp, there are enough brave men 
Who for the good cause will fight gallantly. 

The faithful have been warned — the dangerous 
Are closely watched. I wait but the first step, 
And then immediately — 


MAX. 


What! on suspicion ? 
Immediately ? 
OCTAVIO. 


The emperor is no tyrant. 
The deed alone he'll punish, not the wish. 
The duke hath yet his destiny in his power. 
Let him but leave the treason uncompleted, 
He will be silently displaced from office, 
And make way to his emperor’s royal son. 
An honourable exile to his castles 
Will be a benefaction to him rather 
Than punishment. But the first open step — 


MAX. 


What callest thou such a step? <A wicked step 
Ne’er will he take; but thou mightest easily, 
Yea, thou hast done it, misinterpret him. 


140 THE PICCOLOMINI 


OCTAVIO. 


Nay, howsoever punishable were 

Duke Friedland’s purposes, yet still the steps 
Which he hath taken openly permit 

A mild construction. It is my intention 

To leave this paper wholly unenforced 

Till some act is committed which convicts him 
Of high treason, without doubt or plea, 

And that shall sentence him. 


MAX. 
But who the judge ? 


OCTAVIO. 
Thyself. 


MAX. 
For ever, then, this paper will lie idle. 


OCTAVIO. 


Too soon, I fear, its powers must all be proved. 
After the counter-promise of this evening, 

It cannot be but he must deem himself 

Secure of the majority with us; 

And of the army’s general sentiment 

He hath a pleasing proof in that petition, 

Which thou delivered’st to him from the regiments. 
Add this too — I have letters that the Rhinegrave 
Hath changed his route, and travels by forced marches 
To the Bohemian forests. What this purports 
Remains unknown; and, to confirm suspicion, 

This night a Swedish nobleman arrived here. 


MAX. 


I have thy word. Thou’lt not proceed to action 
Before thou hast convinced me — me myself. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 141 


OCTAVIO. 


Ts it possible? Still, after all thou know’st, 
Canst thou believe still in his innocence ? 


MAX. (with enthusiasm). 


Thy judgment may mistake; my heart cannot. 
[Moderates his voice and manner. 

These reasons might expound thy spirit or mine; 

But they expound not Friedland — I have faith: 

For as he knits his fortunes to the stars, 

Even so doth he resemble them in secret, 

Wonderful, still inexplicable courses ! 

Trust me, they do him wrong. All will be solved. 

These smokes at once will kindle into flame — 

The edges of this black and stormy cloud 

Will brighten suddenly, and we shall view 

The unapproachable glide out in splendour. 


OCTAVIO. 
IT will await it. 


ScENE II. 


OcTAVIO and Max. as before. To them the VALET OF 
THE CHAMBER. 


: OCTAVIO. 
How now, then ? 


VALET. 
A despatch is at the door. 


OCTAVIO. 
So early? From whom comes he then? Who is it? 


142 THE PICCOLOMINI 


VALET. 
That he refused to tell me. 


OCTAVIO. 


Lead him in: 
And, hark you — let it not transpire. 
[Hatt VALET: the CORNET steps in. 


OCTAVIO. 


Ha! cornet —is it you; and from Count Gallas ? 
Give me your letters. 


CORNET. 


The leutenant-general 
Trusted it not to letters. 


OCTAVIO. 
And what is it ? 


CORNET. 
He bade me tell you — Dare I speak openly here ? 


OCTAVIO. 
My son knows all. 


CORNET. 
We have him. 


OCTAVIO. 
Whom ? 


CORNET. 


Sesina, 
The old negotiator. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 143 


OCTAVIO (eagerly). 
And you have him ? 


CORNET. 


In the Bohemian Forest Captain Mohrbrand 
Found and secured him yester-morning early. 
He was proceeding then to Regensburg, 

And on him were despatches for the Swede. 


OCTAVIO. 
And the despatches — 


CORNET. 


The lieutenant-general 
Sent them that instant to Vienna, and 
The prisoner with them. 


OCTAVIO. 


This is, indeed, a tiding! 
That fellow is a precious casket to us, 
Enclosing weighty things. Was much found on him ? 


CORNET. 
I think, six packets, with Count Terzky’s arms. 


OCTAVIO. 
None in the duke’s own hand ? 


CORNET. 
Not that I know. 


OCTAVIO. 
And old Sesina ? 


144 THE PICCOLOMINI 


CORNET. 


He was sorely frightened, 
When it was told him he must to Vienna; 
But the Count Altringer bade him take heart, 
Would he but make a full and free confession. 


OCTAVIO. 


Is Altringer then with your lord? I heard 
That he lay sick at Linz. 


CORNET. 


These three days past 
He’s with my master, the lieutenant-general, 
At Frauenburg. Already have they sixty 
Small companies together, chosen men ; 
Respectfully they greet you with assurances, 
That they are only waiting your commands. 


OCTAVIO. 


In a few days may great events take place. 
And when must you return ? 


CORNET. 
I wait your orders. 


OCTAVIO. 


Remain till evening. 
[CORNET signifies his assent and obeisance, and rs going. 
No one saw you — ha? 


CORNET. 


No living creature. Through the cloister wicket 
The Capuchins, as usual, let me in. 


THE PICCOLOMINI 145 


OCTAVIO. 


Go, rest your limbs, and keep yourself concealed. 
I hold it probable that yet ere evening 
I shall despatch you. The development 
Of this affair approaches: ere the day, 
That even now is dawning in the heaven, 
Ere this eventful day hath set, the lot 
That must decide our fortunes will be drawn. 
{ Hatt CORNET. 


ScEenE III. 
OcTAVIO and Max. PICCOLOMINI. 


OCTAVIO. 


Well — and what now, son? All will soon be clear; 
For all, ’'m certain, went through that Sesina. 


MAX. (who through the whole of the foregoing scene has 
been in a violent and visible struggle of feelings, at 
length starts as one resolved). 


I will procure me light a shorter way. 
Farewell. 
OCTAVIO. 


Where now? Remain here. 


MAX. 
To the Duke. 


OCTAVIO (alarmed). 
What — 
MAX. (returning). 


If thou hast believed that I shall act 
A part in this thy play, thou hast 


Miscalculated on me grievously. 
My way must be straight on. True with the tongue, 


146 THE PICCOLOMINI 


False with heart — I may not, cannot be: 

Nor can I suffer that a man should trust me — 

As his friend trust me — and then lull my conscience 
With such low pleas as these: “I ask him not — 

He did it all at his own hazard — and 

My mouth has never lied to him.” No, no! 

What a friend takes me for, that I must be. 

I'll to the duke; ere yet this day is ended 

Will I demand of him that he do save 

His good name from the world, and with one stride 
Break through and rend this fine-spun web of yours. 
He can, he will! I still am his believer, 

Yet I'll not pledge myself, but that those letters 
May furnish you, perchance, with proofs against him. 
How far may not this Terzky have proceeded — 
What may not he himself too have permitted 
Himself to do, to snare the enemy, 

The laws of war excusing? Nothing, save 

His own mouth shall convict him — nothing less! 
And face to face will I go question him. 


OCTAVIO. 
Thou wilt ? 
MAX. 


I will, as sure as this heart beats. 


OCTAVIO. 


I have, indeed, miscalculated on thee. 

I calculated on a prudent son, 

Who would have blessed the hand beneficent 
That plucked him back from the abyss — and lo! 
A fascinated being I discover, 

Whom his two eyes befool, whom passion wilders, 
Whom not the broadest light of noon can heal. 
Go, question him! Be mad enough, I pray thee. 
The purpose of thy father, of thy emperor, 


THE PICCOLOMINI 147 


Go, give it up free booty! Force me, drive me 
To an open breach before the time. And now, 
Now that a miracle of heaven had guarded 

My secret purpose even to this hour, 

And laid to sleep suspicion’s piercing eyes, 

Let me have lived to see that mine own son, 
With frantic enterprise, annihilates 

My toilsome labours and state policy. 


MAX: 


Ay — this state policy! Oh, how I curse it! 

You will sometime, with your state policy, 

Compel him to the measure: it may happen, 

Because ye are determined that he is guilty, 

Guilty ye’ll make him. All retreat cut off, 

You close up every outlet, hem him in 

Narrower and narrower, till at length ye force him — 

Yes, ye, ye force him, in his desperation, 

To set fire to his prison. Father! father! 

That never can end well —it cannot — will not! 

And let it be decided as it may, 

I see with boding heart the near approach 

Of an ill-starred, unblest catastrophe. 

For this great monarch-spirit, if he fall, 

Will drag a world into the ruin with him. 

And as a ship that midway on the ocean 

Takes fire, at once, and with a thunder-burst 

Explodes, and with itself shoots out its crew 

In smoke and ruin betwixt sea and heaven! 

So will he, falling, draw down in his fall 

All us, who're fixed and mortised to his fortune, 

Deem of it what thou wilt; but pardon me, 

That I must bear me on in my own way. 

All must remain pure betwixt him and me; 

And, ere the daylight dawns, it must be known 

Which I must lose — my father or my friend. 
[During his exit the curtain drops. 


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The Death of Wallenstein 


DRAMATIS PERSON 


WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the 
Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years’ War. 

DucHESS OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein. 

THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. 

Tue Countess TERZzKyY, Sister of the Duchess. 

Lapy NEUBRUNN. 

Octavio PiccoLomint, Lieutenant-General. 

Max. PiccoLominl, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cui- 
rassiers. 

Count Trrzky, the Commander of several Regiments, and 
Brother-in-law of Wallenstein. 

IxtLo, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein’s Confidant. 

IsoLani, General of the Croats. 

But er, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons. 

Gorpon, Governor of Egra. 

Masor GERALDIN. 

CAPTAIN DEVEREUX. 

CAPTAIN MACDONALD. 

AN ADJUTANT. 

Nrumann, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to snes 

COLONEL WRANGEL, Envoy from the Swedes. 

RosEnBuRG, Master of Horse. 

SwEDISH CAPTAIN. 

SENI. 

BurRGoMASTER of Egra. 

ANSPESSADE, of the Cuirassiers. 

Rue: THE UHAMEUR, ‘ Belonging to the Duke. 


Cuirassiers, Dragoons, and Servants. 


The Death of Wallenstein 


ACT I. 
ScENE I. 


A room fitted up for astrological labours, and provided 
with celestial charts, with globes, telescopes, quad- 
rants, and other mathematical instruments. Seven 
colossal figures, representing the planets, each with 
a transparent star of different colour on tts head, 
stand im a semicircle in the background, so that 
Mars and Saturn are nearest the eye. The re- 
mainder of the scene and its disposition is given in 
the fourth scene of the second act. There must be 
a curtain over the figures, which may be dropped 
and conceal them on occasions. 

[In the fifth scene of this act it must be dropped ; 
but in the seventh scene it must be again drawn wp 
wholly or in part. | 


WALLENSTEIN at a black table, on which a speculum 
astrologicum 1s described with chalk. SENI 1s 
taking observations through a window. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


All well — and now let it be ended, Seni. Come, 
The dawn commences, and Mars rules the hour; 


151 


152 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


We must give o’er the operation. Come, 
We know enough. 


SENI. 


Your highness must permit me 
Just to contemplate Venus. She is now rising: 
Like as a sun so shines she in the east. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


She is at present in her perigee, 

And now shoots down her strongest influences. 
[Contemplating the figure on the table. 

Auspicious aspect! fateful in conjunction, 

At length the mighty three corradiate ; 

And the two stars of blessing, Jupiter 

And Venus, take between them the malignant 

Slyly-malicious Mars, and thus compel 

Into my service that old mischief-founder : 

For long he viewed me hostilely, and ever 

With beam oblique, or perpendicular, 

Now in the Quartile, now in the Secundan, 

Shot his red lightnings at my stars, disturbing 

Their blessed influences and sweet aspects: 

Now they have conquered the old enemy, 

And bring him in the heavens a prisoner to me. 


SENI (who has come down from the window). 


And in a corner-house, your highness — think of that! 
That makes each influence of double strength. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


And sun and moon, too, in the Sextile aspect, 
The soft light with the vehement — so I love it. 
Sol is the heart, Luna the head of heaven, 

Bold be the plan, fiery the execution. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 153 


SENI. 


And both the mighty Lumina by no 
Maleficus affronted. Lo! Saturnus, 
Innocuous, powerless, in cadente Domo. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The empire of Saturnus is gone by; 

Lord of the secret birth of things is he; 

Within the lap of earth, and in the depths 

Of the imagination dominates ; 

And his are all things that eschew the light. 

The time is o’er of brooding and contrivance, 

For Jupiter, the lustrous, lordeth now, 

And the dark work, complete of preparation, 

He draws by force into the realm of light. 

Now must we hasten on to action, ere 

The scheme, and most auspicious positure 

Parts o’er my head, and takes once more its flight, 

For the heaven’s journey still, and adjourn not. 
[Zhere are knocks at the door. 

There’s some one knocking there. See who it is. 


TERZKY (from without). 


Open, and let me in. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


Ay —’tis Terzky. 
What is there of such urgence? We are busy. 
TERZKY (from without). 
Lay all aside at present, I entreat you; 
It suffers no delaying. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


Open, Seni! 
[ While SENI opens the door for TERZKY, WALLEN- 
STEIN draws the curtain over the figures. 


154 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ScENE IT. 
WALLENSTEIN, CoUNT TERZKY. 


TERZKY (enters). 


Hast thou already heard it? He is taken. 
Gallas has given him up to the emperor. 
[SENI draws off the black table and ext. 


WALLENSTEIN (#0 TERZKY). 
Who has been taken? Who is given up? 


TERZKY. 


The man who knows our secrets, who knows every 
Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon, 
Through whose hands all and everything has passed — 


WALLENSTEIN (drawing back). 
Nay, not Sesina? Say, no! I entreat thee. 


TERZKY. 


All on his road for Regensburg to the Swede 

He was plunged down upon by Gallas’ agent, 

Who had been long in ambush, lurking for him. 

There must have been found on him my whole packet 
To Thur, to Kinsky, to Oxenstiern, to Arnheim: 

All this is in their hands: they have now an insight 
Into the whole — our measures and our motives. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 155 


ScENE III. 
To them enters ILLo. 


ILLO (to TERZKY). 
Has he heard it ? 
TERZKY. 


He has heard it. 


ILLO (¢0 WALLENSTEIN). 


Thinkest thou still 
To make thy peace with the emperor, to regain 
His confidence? E’en were it now thy wish 
To abandon all thy plans, yet still they know 
What thou hast wished : then forwards thou must press ; 
Retreat is now no longer in thy power. 


TERZKY. 


They have documents against us, and in hands, 
Which show beyond all power of contradiction — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Of my handwriting —no iota. Thee 
I punish, or thy lies. 
ILLO. 

And thou believest, 
That what this man, and what thy sister’s husband, 
Did in thy name, will not stand on thy reckoning ? 
His word must pass for thy word with the Swede, 
And not with those that hate thee at Vienna ? 


TERZKY. 


In writing thou gavest nothing ; but bethink thee, 
How far thou venturedst by word of mouth 


156 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


With this Sesina! And will he be silent ? 
If he can save himself by yielding up 
Thy secret purposes, will he retain them ? 


ILLO. 


Thyself dost not conceive it possible ; 

And since they now have evidence authentic 

How far thou hast already gone, speak! tell us, 
What art thou waiting for? Thou canst no longer 
Keep thy command ; and beyond hope of rescue 
Thouw’rt lost if thou resign’st it. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


In the army 
Lies my security. The army will not 
Abandon me. Whatever they may know, 
The power is mine, and they must gulp it down — 
And if I give them caution for my fealty, 
They must he satisfied, at least appear so. 


ILLO. 


The army, duke, 7s thine now; for this moment 

"Tis thine: but think with terror on the slow, 

The quiet power of time. From open violence 

The attachment of thy soldiery secures thee 

To-day, to-morrow: but grant’st thou them a respite, 
Unheard, unseen, they'll undermine that love 

On which thou now dost feel so firm a footing, 
With wily theft will draw away from thee 

One after the other — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


"Tis a cursed accident! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ILLO. 


Oh! I will call it a most blessed one, 
If it work on thee as it ought to do, 
Hurry thee on to action — to decision. 
The Swedish general ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


He’s arrived! Know’st thou 
What his commission is — 


ILLO. 


To thee alone 
Will he intrust the purpose of his coming. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


A cursed, cursed accident! Yes, yes, 
Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent. 


TERZKY. 


He’s a Bohemian fugitive and rebel, 

His neck is forfeit. Can he save himself 

At thy cost, think you he will scruple it ? 

And if they put him to the torture, will he, 

Will he, that dastardling, have strength enough — 


WALLENSTEIN (lost in thought). 


Their confidence is lost, irreparably ! 

And I may act which way I will, I shall 
Be and remain for ever in their thought 
A traitor to my country. How sincerely 
Soever I return back to my duty, 

It will no longer help me — 


IS 


158 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ILLO. 


Ruin thee, 
That it will do! Not thy fidelity, 
Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion — 


WALLENSTEIN (pacing wp and down in extreme 
agitation). 


What! I must realise it now in earnest, 
Because I toyed too freely with the thought ! 
Accursed he who dallies with a devil! 

And must I— I must realise it now — 

Now, while I have the power, it must take place! 


ILLO. 
Now — now — ere they can ward and parry it! 


WALLENSTEIN (looking at the paper of signatures). 


I have the generals’ word — a written promise ! 
Max. Piccolomini stands not here — how’s that ? 


TERZKY. 
It was — he fancied — 


ILLO. 


Mere self-willedness. 
There needed no such thing ’twixt him and you. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


He is quite right ; there needed no such thing. 
The regiments, too, deny to march for Flanders, 
Have sent me in a paper of remonstrance, 

And openly resist the imperial orders. 

The first step to revolt’s already taken. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 159 


ILLO. 


Believe me, thou wilt find it far more easy 
To lead them over to the enemy 
Than to the Spaniard. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I will hear, however, 
What the Swede has to say to me. 


ILLO (eagerly to TERZKY). 


Go, call him, 
He stands without the door in waiting. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Stay ! 
Stay but a little. It hath taken me 
All by surprise ; it came too quick upon me; 
"Tis wholly novel that an accident, 
With its dark lordship, and blind agency, 
Should force me on with it. 


ILLO. 


First hear him only, 
And after weigh it. [Lxewnt TERZKY and ILLO. 


ScENE IV. 


WALLENSTEIN (in soliloquy). 


Is it possible ? 
Is't so? I can no longer what I would ? 
No longer draw back at my liking? I 
Must do the deed, because I thought of it ? 
And fed this heart here with a dream? Because 
I did not scowl temptation from my presence, 


160 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Dallied with thoughts of possible fulfilment, 

Commenced no movement, left all time uncertain, 

And only kept the road, the access open ? 

By the great God of Heaven! it was not 

My serious meaning, it was ne’er resolved. 

I but amused myself with thinking of it. 

The free-will tempted me, the power to do 

Or not to do it. Was it criminal 

To make the fancy minister to hope, 

To fill the air with pretty toys of air, 

And clutch fantastic sceptres moving toward me? 

Was not the will kept free? Beheld I not 

The road of duty close beside me — but 

One little step, and once more I was in it! 

Where am 1? Whither have I been transported ? 

No road, no track behind me, but a wall, 

Impenetrable, insurmountable, 

Rises obedient to the spells I muttered 

And meant not — my own doings tower behind me. 
[Pauses and remains in deep thought. 

A punishable man I seem, the guilt, 

Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me; 

The equivocal demeanour of my life 

Bears witness on my prosecutor’s party. 

And even my purest acts from purest motives 

Suspicion poisons with malicious gloss. 

Were I that thing for which I pass, that traitor, 

A goodly outside I had sure reserved, 

Had drawn the coverings thick and double round me, 

Been calm and chary of my utterance ; 

But being conscious of the innocence 

Of my intent, my uncorrupted will, 

I gave way to my humours, to my passion: 

Bold were my words, because my deeds were not. 

Now every planless measure, chance event, 

The threat of rage, the vaunt of joy and triumph, 

And all the May-games of a heart overflowing, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 161 


Will they connect, and weave them all together 
Into one web of treason; all will be plan, 
My eye ner absent from the far-off mark, 
Step tracing step, each step a politic progress ; 
And out of all they’ll fabricate a charge 
So specious, that I must myself stand dumb. 
IT am caught in my own net, and only force, 
Naught but a sudden rent can liberate me. 

[ Pauses again. 
How else! since that the heart’s unbiased instinct 
Impelled me to the daring deed, which now 
Necessity, self-preservation, orders. 
Stern is the on-look of necessity, 
Not without shudder may a human hand 
Grasp the mysterious urn of destiny. 
My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom; 
Once suffered to escape from its safe corner 
Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace, 
Sent forth into the foreign, it belongs 
For ever to those sly malicious powers 
Whom never art of man conciliated. 

[Paces in agitation through the chamber, then 
pauses, and, after the pause, breaks out again 
into audible soliloquy. 

What is thy enterprise? thy aim? thy object ? 
Hast honestly confessed it to thyself ? 

Power seated on a quiet throne thou’dst shake, 
Power on an ancient, consecrated throne, 
Strong in possession, founded in all custom ; 
Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots 
Fixed to the people’s pious nursery faith. 

This, this will be no strife of strength with strength. 
That feared I not. I brave each combatant, 
Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye, 

Who, full himself of courage, kindles courage 
In me too. ’Tis a foe invisible 

The which I fear —a fearful enemy, 


162 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Which in the human heart opposes me, 
By its coward fear alone made fearful to me. 
Not that, which full of life, instinct with power, 
Makes known its present being; that is not 
The true, the perilously formidable. 
O no! it is the common, the quite common, 
The thing of an eternal yesterday. 
Whatever was, and evermore returns, 
Sterling to-morrow, for to-day ’twas sterling! 
For of the wholly common is man made, 
And custom is his nurse! Woe then to them 
Who lay irreverent hands upon his old 
House furniture, the dear inheritance 
From his forefathers! For time consecrates ; 
And what is gray with age becomes religion. 
Be in possession, and thou hast the right, 
And sacred will the many guard it for thee! 
[Zo the PAGE, who here enters. 
The Swedish officer? Well, let him enter. 
[The PAGE exit, WALLENSTEIN fixes his eye in deep 
thought on the door. 
Yet, it is pure —as yet !—the crime has come 
Not o’er this threshold yet — so slender is 
The boundary that divideth life’s two paths. 


SCENE V. 
WALLENSTEIN and WRANGEL. 


WALLENSTEIN (after having fixed a searching look on 
him). 
Your name is Wrangel ? 


WRANGEL. 


Gustave Wrangel, General 
Of the Sudermanian Blues. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 163 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It was a Wrangel 
Who injured me materially at Stralsund, 
And by his brave resistance was the cause 
Of the opposition which that seaport made. 


WRANGEL. 


It was the doing of the element 

With which you fought, my lord! and not my merit. 
The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom: 

The sea and land, it seemed were not to serve 

One and the same. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
You plucked the admiral’s hat from off my head. 


WRANGEL. 


I come to place a diadem thereon. 


WALLENSTEIN makes the motion for him to take a seat, 
and seats himself). 


And where are your credentials ? 
Come you provided with full powers, sir general ? 


WRANGEL. 
There are so many scruples yet to solve — 


WALLENSTEIN (having read the credentials). 


An able letter! Ay— he is a prudent, 
Intelligent master whom you serve, sir general ! 
The chancellor writes me that he but fulfils 
His late departed sovereign’s own idea 

In helping me to the Bohemian crown. 


164 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WRANGEL. 


He says the truth. Our great king, now in heaven, 
Did ever deem most highly of your grace’s 
Preéminent sense and military genius; 

And always the commanding intellect, 

He said, should have command, and be the king. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes, he might say it safely. General Wrangel, 
[Zaking his hand affectionately. 

Come, fair and open. Trust me, I was always 

A Swede at heart. Eh! that did you experience 

Both in Silesia and at Nuremberg ; 

I had you often in my power, and let you 

Always slip out by some back door or other. 

‘Tis this for which the court can ne’er forgive me, 

Which drives me to this present step: and since 

Our interests so run in one direction, 

E’en let us have a thorough confidence 

Each in the other. 


WRANGEL. 


Confidence will come 
Has each but only first security. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The chancellor still, I see, does not quite trust me; 
And, I confess — the game does not lie wholly 

To my advantage. Without doubt he thinks, 

If I can play false with the emperor, 

Who is my sovereign, I can do the like 

With the enemy, and that the one, too, were 
Sooner to be forgiven me than the other. 

Is not this your opinion, too, sir general ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 165 


WRANGEL. 
I have here a duty merely, no opinion. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The emperor hath urged me to the uttermost: 

I can no longer honourably serve him. 

For my security, in self-defence, 

I take this hard step, which my conscience blames. 


WRANGEL. 


That I believe. So far would no one go 
Who was not forced to it. [After a pause. 
What may have impelled 

Your princely highness in this wise to act 

Toward your sovereign lord and emperor, 

Beseems not us to expound or criticise. 

The Swede is fighting for his good old cause, 

With his good sword and conscience. This concur- 
rence, 

This opportunity is in our favour, 

And all advantages in war are lawful. 

We take what offers without questioning ; 

And if all have its due and just proportions — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Of what then are ye doubting? Of my will? 

Or of my power? I pledged me to the chancellor, 
Would he trust me with sixteen thousand men, 
That I would instantly go over to them 

With eighteen thousand of the emperor’s troops. 


WRANGEL. 


Your grace is known to be a mighty war-chief, 
To be a second Attila, and Pyrrhus. 
"Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment, 


166 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


How some years past, beyond all human faith, 
You called an army forth like a creation: 
But yet — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

But yet? 
WRANGEL. 

But still the chancellor thinks 
It might yet be an easier thing from nothing 
To call forth sixty thousand men of battle, 
Than to persuade one sixtieth part of them — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What now? Out with it, friend ? 


WRANGEL. 
To break their oaths. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


And he thinks so? He judges like a Swede, 

And like a Protestant. You Lutherans 

Fight for your Bible. You are interested 

About the cause; and with your hearts you follow 
Your banners. Among you whoe’er deserts 

To the enemy hath broken covenant 

With two lords at one time. We've no such fancies. 


WRANGEL. 


Great God in heaven! Have then the people here 
No house and home, no fireside, no altar ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


T will explain that to you, how it stands :" 

The Austrian has a country, ay, and loves it, 
And has good cause to love it — but this army 
That calls itself the imperial, this that houses 


“ THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 167 


Here in Bohemia, this has none — no country ; 
This is an outcast of all foreign lands, 

Unclaimed by town or tribe, to whom belongs 
Nothing except the universal sun. 

And this Bohemian land for which we fight 

Loves not the master whom the chance of war, 
Not its own choice or will, hath given to it. 

Men murmur at the oppression of their conscience, 
And power hath only awed but not appeased them. 
A glowing and avenging memory lives 

Of cruel deeds committed on these plains; 

How can the son forget that here his father 

Was hunted by the bloodhound to the mass ? 

A people thus oppressed must still be feared, 
Whether they suffer or avenge their wrongs. 


WRANGEL. 


But then the nobles and the officers ? 
Such a desertion, such a felony, 

It is without example, my lord duke, 
In the world’s history. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


They are all mine — 
Mine unconditionally — mine on all terms. 
Not me, your own eyes you must trust. 

[He gives him the paper containing the written 
oath. WRANGEL reads zt through, and, hav- 
ing read vt, lays wt on the table, remaining 
silent. 

So then ; 
Now comprehend you ? 


WRANGEL. 


Comprehend who can! 
My lord duke, I will let the mask drop — yes! 


168 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


[ve full powers for a final settlement. 

The Rhinegrave stands but four days’ march from here 
With fifteen thousand men, and only waits 

For orders to proceed and join your army. 

These orders I give out immediately 

We're compromised. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What asks the chancellor ? 


WRANGEL (considerately). 


Twelve regiments, every man a Swede — my head 
The warranty — and all might prove at last 
Only false play — 


WALLENSTEIN (starting). 
Sir Swede! 


WRANGEL (calmly proceeding). 


Am therefore forced 
To insist thereon, that he do formally, 
Irrevocably break with the emperor, 
Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Come, brief and open! What is the demand ? 


WRANGEL. 


That he forthwith disarm the Spanish regiments 
Attached to the emperor, that he seize on Prague, 
And to the Swedes give up that city, with 

The strong pass Eera. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 169 


WALLENSTEIN. 


That is much indeed! 
Prague ! — Egra’s granted — but — but Prague. 
"Twon’t do. 
I give you every security 
Which you may ask of me in common reason — 
But Prague — Bohemia — these, sir general, 
I can myself protect. 


WRANGEL. 


We doubt it not. 
But ’tis not the protection that is now 
Our sole concern. We want security, 
That we shall not expend our men and money 
All to no purpose. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
*Tis but reasonable. 


WRANGEL. 


And till we are indemnified, so long 
Stays Prague in pledge. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Then trust you us so little ? 


WRANGEL (rising). 


The Swede, if he would treat well with the German, 
Must keep a sharp lookout. We have been called 
Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire 

From ruin — with our best blood have we sealed 
The liberty of faith and gospel truth. 

But now already is the benefaction 

No longer felt, the load alone is felt. 

Ye look askance with evil eye upon us, 

As foreigners, intruders in the empire, 


170 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


And would fain send us with some paltry sum 
Of money, home again to our old forests. 

No, no! my lord duke! it never was 

For Judas’ pay, for chinking gold and silver, 
That we did leave our king by the Great Stone. } 
No, not for gold and silver have there bled 

So many of our Swedish nobles — neither 
Will we, with empty laurels for our payment, 
Hoist sail for our own country. Citizens 
Will we remain upon the soil, the which 

Our monarch conquered for himself and died. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Help to keep down the common enemy, 
And the fair border land must needs be yours. 


WRANGEL. 


But when the common enemy lies vanquished, 

Who knits together our new friendship then ? 

We know, Duke Friedland! though perhaps the Swede 
Ought not to have known it, that you carry on 

Secret negotiations with the Saxons. 

Who is our warranty that we are not — 

The sacrifices in those articles 

Which ’tis thought needful to conceal from us ? 


WALLENSTEIN (778¢8). 
Think you of something better, Gustave Wrangel ! 
Of Prague no more. 
WRANGEL. 


Here my commission ends. 


1A great stone near Liitzen, since called the Swede’s Stone, 
the body of their great king having been found at the foot of it, 
after the battle in which he lost his life. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN La 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Surrender up to you my capital! 
Far liever would I force about, and step 
Back to my emperor. 


WRANGEL. 
If time yet permits — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


That lies with me, even now, at any hour. 


WRANGEL. 


Some days ago, perhaps. To-day, no longer; 

No longer since Sesina’s been a prisoner. 
[WALLENSTEIN ts struck, and silenced. 

My lord duke, hear me — we believe that you 

At present do mean honourably by us. 

Since yesterday we're sure of that — and now 

This paper warrants for the troops, there’s nothing 

Stands in the way of our full confidence. 

Prague shall not part us. Hear! The chancellor 

Contents himself with Alstadt; to your grace 

He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side. 

But Egra above all must open to us, 

Ere we can think of any junction. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


You, 
You therefore must I trust, and not you me? 
I will consider of your proposition. 


WRANGEL. 


I must entreat that your consideration 
Occupy not too long a time. Already 
Has this negotiation, my lord duke! 


172 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Crept on into the second year. If nothing 
Is settled this time, will the chancellor 
Consider it as broken off for ever ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Ye press me hard. A measure such as this 
Ought to be thought of. 


WRANGEL. 


Ay ! but think of this too, 
That sudden action only can procure it. 
Success — think first of this, your highness. 
[Lait WRANGEL. 


ScENE VI. 


WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, and ILLO (re-enter). 


ILLO. 
Is’t all right ? 


TERZKY. 
Are you compromised ? | 


ILLO. 
This Swede 
Went smiling from you. Yes! you're compromised. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


As yet is nothing settled ; and (well weighed) 
I feel myself inclined to leave it so. 


TERZKY. 
How? What is that ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN £73 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Come on me what will come, 
The doing evil to avoid an evil 
Cannot be good! 


TERZKY. 
Nay, but bethink you, duke. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


To live upon the mercy of these Swedes! 
Of these proud-hearted Swedes !—TI could not bear it. 


ILLO. 


Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant ? 
Bringest thou not more to them than thou receivest ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


How fared it with the brave and royal Bourbon 
Who sold himself unto his country’s foes, 

And pierced the bosom of his fatherland ? 
Curses were his reward, and men’s abhorrence 
Avenged the unnatural and revolting deed. 


ILLO. 
Is that thy case ? 
WALLENSTEIN. 


True faith, I tell thee, 
Must ever be the dearest friend of man: 
His nature prompts him to assert its rights. 
The enmity of sects, the rage of parties, 
Long-cherished envy, jealousy, unite ; 
And all the struggling elements of evil 
Suspend their conflict, and together league 
In one alliance ’gainst their common foe — 
The savage beast that breaks into the fold, 


174 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Where men repose in confidence and peace. 

For vain were man’s own prudence to protect him. 
"Tis only in the forehead nature plants 

The watchful eye; the back, without defence, 
Must find its shield in man’s fidelity. 


TERZKY. 


Think not more meanly of thyself than do 

Thy foes, who stretch their hands with joy to greet thee. 
Less scrupulous far was the imperial Charles, 

The powerful head of this illustrious house ; 

With open arms he gave the Bourbon welcome ; 

For still by policy the world is ruled. 


ScENE VII. 
To these enter the COUNTESS TERZKY. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Who sent for you? There is no business here 
For women. 


COUNTESS. 
I am come to bid you joy. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Use thy authority, Terzky ; bid her go. 


COUNTESS. 
Come I perhaps too early? I hope not. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat you: 
You know it is the weapon that destroys me. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


I am routed, if a woman but attack me: 
I cannot traffic in the trade of words 
With that unreasoning sex. 


COUNTESS. 


I had already 
Given the Bohemians a king. 


WALLENSTEIN (sarcastically). 


They have one, 
In consequence, no doubt. 


COUNTESS (to the others). 
Ha! what new scruple ? 


TERZKY. 
The duke will not. 


COUNTESS. 
He will not what he must! 


ILLO. 


It lies with you now. Try. For I am silenced 
When folks begin to talk to me of conscience 
And of fidelity. 

COUNTESS. 


How ? then, when all 
Lay in the far-off distance, when the road 
Stretched out before thine eyes interminably, 
Then hadst thou courage and resolve ; and now, 
Now that the dream is being realised, 
The purpose ripe, the issue ascertained, 
Dost thou begin to play the dastard now ? 
Planned merely, ’tis a common felony ; 
Accomplished, an immortal undertaking : 


175 


176 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


And with success comes pardon hand in hand, 
For all event is God’s arbitrament. 


SERVANT (enters). 


The Colonel Piccolomini. 


COUNTESS (hastily). 
— Must wait. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
I cannot see him now. Another time. 


SERVANT. 


But for two minutes he entreats an audience: 
Of the most urgent nature is his business. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Who knows what he may bring us! I will hear him. 


COUNTESS (laughs). 
Urgent for him, no doubt? but thou may’st wait. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What is it ? 
COUNTESS. 
Thou shalt be informed hereafter. 


First let the Swede and thee be compromised. 
[Hawt SERVANT. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder 
Way of escape were possible — J still 
Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 177 


COUNTESS. 


Desirest thou nothing further? Such a way 

Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off. 
Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away 

All thy past life; determine to commence 

A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too, 

As well as fame and fortune. To Vienna 

Hence — to the emperor — kneel before the throne ; 
Take a full coffer with thee — say aloud, 

Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty ; 

Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede. 


ILLO. 


For that too ’tis too late. They know too much; 
He would but bear his own head to the block. 


COUNTESS. 


I fear not that. They have no evidence 

To attaint him legally, and they avoid 

The avowal of an arbitrary power. 

They'll let the duke resign without disturbance. 
I see how all will end. The King of Hungary 
Makes his appearance, and ’twill of itself 

Be understood, and then the duke retires. 
There will not want a formal declaration. 

The young king will administer the oath 

To the whole army; and so all returns 

To the old position. On some morrow morning 
The duke departs ; and now ’tis stir and bustle 
Within his castles. He will hunt and build; 
Superintend his horses’ pedigrees, 

Creates himself a court, gives golden keys, 
And introduceth strictest ceremony 

In fine proportions, and nice etiquette ; 

Keeps open table with high cheer: in brief, 
Commenceth mighty king —in miniature. 


178 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


And while he prudently demeans himself, 

And gives himself no actual importance, 

He will be let appear whate’er he likes: 

And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear 
A mighty prince to his last dying hour ? 

Well now, what then? Duke Friedland is as others, 
A fire-new noble, whom the war hath raised 

To price and currency, a Jonah’s gourd, 

An overnight creation of court-favour, 

Which, with an undistinguishable ease, 

Makes baron or makes prince. 


WALLENSTEIN (in extreme agitation). 


Take her away. 
Let in the young Count Piccolomini. 


COUNTESS. 


Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou 
Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave, 

So ignominiously to be dried up ? 

Thy life, that arrogated such an height, 

To end in such a nothing! To be nothing, 

When one was always nothing, is an evil 

That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil ; 

But to become a nothing, having been — 


WALLENSTEIN (starts up in violent agitation). 


Show me a way out of this stifling crowd, 

Ye powers of aidance! Show me such a way 
As I am capable of going. I 

Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler ; 

I cannot warm by thinking ; cannot say 

To the good luck that turns her back upon me 
Magnanimously : “Go; I need thee not.” 

Cease I to work, I am annihilated. 

Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 179 


If so I may avoid the last extreme ; 

But ere I sink down into nothingness, 

Leave off so little, who began so great, 

Ere that the world confuses me with those 

Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles, 
This age and after ages! speak my name 

With hate and dread ; and Friedland be redemption 
For each accursed deed. 


COUNTESS. 


What is there here, then, 
So against nature? Help me to perceive it! 
Oh, let not superstition’s nightly goblins 
Subdue thy clear, bright spirit! Art thou bid 
To murder? with abhorred, accursed poniard, 
To violate the breasts that nourish thee ? 
That were against our nature, that might aptly 
Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken.? 
Yet not a few, and for a meaner object, 
Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it. 
What is there in thy case so black and monstrous ? 
Thou art accused of treason — whether with 
Or without justice is not now the question — 
Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly 
Of the power which thou possessest — Friedland! 
Duke! 
Tell me where lives that thing so meek and tame, 
That doth not all his living faculties 
Put forth in preservation of his life ? 


1Could I have hazarded such a Germanism as the use of the 
word afterworld for posterity, ‘‘ Es spreche Welt und Nachwelt 
meinen Namen’’ might have been rendered with. more literal 
fidelity : Let world and afterworld speak out my name, etc. 

71 have not ventured to affront the fastidious delicacy of our 
age with a literal translation of this line,— 

werth 
Die Eingeweide schaudernd aufzuregen. 


180 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


What deed so daring, which necessity 
And desperation will not sanctify ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me; 

He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed 

The nearest to his heart. Full many a time 

We like familiar friends, both at one table, 

Have banqueted together — he and I; 

And the young kings themselves held me the basin 
Wherewith to wash me — and ist come to this ? 


COUNTESS. 


So faithfully preservest thou each small favour, 

And hast no memory for contumelies ? 

Must I remind thee, how at Regensburg 

This man repaid thy faithful services ? 

All ranks and all conditions in the empire 

Thou hadst wronged to make him great, — hadst loaded 
on thee, 

On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world. 

No friend existed for thee in all Germany, 

And why? because thou hadst existed only 

For the emperor. To the emperor alone 

Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered round him 

At Regensburg in the Diet — and he dropped thee! 

He let thee fall! he let thee fall a victim 

To the Bavarian, to that insolent ! 

Deposed, stripped bare of all thy dignity 

And power, amid the taunting of thy foe 

Thou wert let drop into obscurity. 

Say not, the restoration of thy honour 

Has made atonement for that first injustice. 

No honest good-will was it that replaced thee ; 

The law of hard necessity replaced thee, 

Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 181 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Not to their good wishes, that is certain, 
Nor yet to his affection I’m indebted 
For this high office; and if I abuse it, 

I shall therein abuse no confidence. 


COUNTESS. 


Affection ! confidence ! — they needed thee. 
Necessity, impetuous remonstrant ! 

Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy, 

Is served, who'll have the thing and not the symbol, 
Ever seeks out the greatest and the best, 

And at the rudder places him, e’en though 

She had been forced to take him from the rabble — 
She, this necessity, it was that placed thee 

In this high office; it was she that gave thee 

Thy letters-patent of inauguration. 

For, to the uttermost moment that they can, 

This race still help themselves at cheapest rate 
With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach 
Of extreme peril, when a hollow.image 

Is found a hollow image and no more, 

Then falls the power into the mighty hands 

Of nature, of the spirit-giant born, 

Who listens only to himself, knows nothing 

Of stipulations, duties, reverences, 

And, like the emancipated force of fire, 

Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them, 

Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


"Tis true! they saw me always as I am — 
Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain. 
I never held it worth my pains to hide 

The bold all-grasping habit of my soul. 


182 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 


Nay rather — thou hast ever shown thyself 

A formidable man, without restraint ; 

Hast exercised the full prerogatives 

Of thy impetuous nature, which had been 

Once granted to thee. Therefore, duke, not thou, 
Who hast still remained consistent with thyself, 
But they are in the wrong, who, fearing thee, 
Intrusted such a power in hands they feared. 

For, by the laws of spirit, in the right 

Is every individual character 

That acts in strict consistence with itself: 
Self-contradiction is the only wrong. 

Wert thou another being, then, when thou 

Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire, 
And sword, and desolation, through the circles 

Of Germany, the universal scourge, 

Didst mock all ordinances of the empire, 

The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst, 
Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy, 
All to extend thy Sultan’s domination ? 

Then was the time to break thee in, to curb 

Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance. 

But no, the emperor felt no touch of conscience ; 
What served him pleased him, and without a murmur 
He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds. 
What at that time was right, because thou didst it 
For him, to-day is all at once become 
Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed 

Against him. O most flimsy superstition! 


WALLENSTEIN (rising). 


I never saw it in this light before, 

"Tis even so. The emperor perpetrated 

Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly. 
And even this prince’s mantle, which I wear, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 183 


I owe to what were services to him, 
But most high misdemeanours ’gainst the empire. 


COUNTESS. 


Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, Friedland ! ) 

The point can be no more of right and duty, 

Only of power and the opportunity. 

That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder 

Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing 

Throw thyself up into the chariot-seat, 

Seize with firm hand the reins ere thy opponent 

Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest 

Of the now empty seat. The moment comes; 

It is already here, when thou must write 

The absolute total of thy life’s vast sum. 

The constellations stand victorious o’er thee, 

The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions, 

And tell thee, “ Now’s the time!” The starry courses 

Hast thou thy life long measured to no purpose ? 

The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings ? 
[Pointing to the different objects in the room. 

The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven, 

Hast pictured on these walls and all around thee. 

In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed 

These seven presiding lords of destiny — 

For toys? Is all this preparation nothing ? 

Is there no marrow in this hollow art, 

That even to thyself it doth avail 

Nothing, and has no influence over thee 

In the great moment of decision ? 


WALLENSTEIN (during this last speech walks up and 
down with inward struggles, labouring with pas- 
sion ; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupt- 
ung the COUNTESS). 


Send Wrangel to me —I will instantly 
Despatch three couriers — 


184 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ILLO (hurrying out). 


God in heaven be praised ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It is his evil genius and mine. 
Our evil genius! It chastises him 
Through me, the instrument of his ambition ; 
And I expect no less, than that revenge 
F’en now is whetting for my breast the poniard. 
Who sows the serpent’s teeth let him not hope 
To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime 
Has, in the moment of its perpetration, » 
Its own avenging angel — dark misgiving, 
An ominous sinking at the inmost heart. 
He can no longer trust me. Then no longer 
Can I retreat — so come that which must come. 
Still destiny preserves its due relations, 
The heart within us is its absolute 
Vicegerent. [Zo TERZKY. 
Go, conduct you Gustave Wrangel 
To my state cabinet. Myself will speak to 
The couriers. And despatch immediately 
A servant for Octavio Piccolomini. 
[Zo the COUNTESS, who cannot conceal her triwmph. 
No exultation ! woman, triumph not! 
For jealous are the powers of destiny, 
Joy premature, and shouts ere victory, 
Encroach upon their rights and privileges. 
We sow the seed, and they the growth determine. 
[While he is making his exit the curtain drops. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 185 


ACT II. 
SCENE I. 
_ Scene as in the preceding Act. 


WALLENSTEIN, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI. 


WALLENSTEIN (coming forward in conversation). 


He sends me word from Linz that he lies sick ; 

But I have sure intelligence that he 

Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Gallas. 

Secure them both, and send them to me hither. 

Remember, thou takest on thee the command 

Of those same Spanish regiments, — constantly 

Make preparation, and be never ready ; 

And if they urge thee to draw out against me, 

Still answer yes, and stand as thou wert fettered. 

I know that it is doing thee a service 

To keep thee out of action in this business. 

Thou lovest to linger on in fair appearances ; 

Steps of extremity are not thy province, 

Therefore have I sought out this part for thee. 

Thou wilt this time be of most service to me 

By thy inertness. The meantime, if fortune 

Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know 

What is to do. [ Enter Max. PICCOLOMINI. 
Now go, Octavio. 

This night must thou be off, take my own horses: 

Him here I keep with me — make short farewell — 

Trust me, I think we all shall meet again 

In joy and thriving fortunes. 


OcTAVIO (to his son). 


I shall see you 
Yet ere I go. 


186 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ScENE II. 
WALLENSTEIN, MAx. PICCOLOMINI. 


MAX. (advances to him). 


My general! 
WALLENSTEIN. 


That I am no longer, if 
Thou stylest thyself the emperor’s officer. 


MAX. 


Then thou will leave the army, general ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I have renounced the service of the emperor. 


MAX. 
And thou wilt leave the army ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Rather hope I 

To bind it nearer still and faster to me. 
[He seats himself. 

Yes, Max., I have delayed to open it to thee, 
Even till the hour of acting ’gins to strike. 
Youth’s fortunate feeling doth seize easily 
The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is 
To exercise the single apprehension 
Where the sums square in proof ; 
But where it happens, that of two sure evils 
One must be taken, where the heart not wholly 
Brings itself back from out the strife of duties, 
There ’tis a blessing to have no election, 
And blank necessity is grace and favour. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 187 


This is now present: do not look behind thee, — 
It can no more avail thee. Look thou forwards! 
Think not! judge not! prepare thyself to act! 
The court — it hath determined on my ruin, 
Therefore I will be beforehand with them. 
We'll join the Swedes — right gallant fellows are they, 
And our good friends. 

| He stops himself, expectiny PICCOLOMINI’S answer. 
I have taken thee by surprise. Answer me not: 
I grant thee time to recollect thyself. 

[He rises, reteres to the back of the stage. Max. 
remains for a long time motionless, in a 
trance of excessive anguish. At his first 
motion WALLENSTEIN returns, and places 
himself before him. 


MAX. 


My general, this day thou makest me 

Of age to speak in my own right and person, 

For till this day I have been spared the trouble 
To find out my own road. Thee have I followed 
With most implicit, unconditional faith, 

Sure of the right path if I followed thee. 

To-day, for the first time, dost thou refer 

Me to myself, and forcest me to make 

Election between thee and my own heart. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Soft cradled thee thy fortune till to-day ; 

Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport, 
Indulge all lovely instincts, act for ever 

With undivided heart. It can remain 

No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads 

Start from each other. Duties strive with duties, 
Thou must needs choose thy party in the war 


188 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Which is now kindling ’twixt thy friend and him 
Who is thy emperor. 


MAX. 


War! is that the name ? 
War is as frightful as heaven’s pestilence, 
Yet it is good, is it heaven’s will as that is. 
Is that a good war, which against the emperor 
Thou wagest with the emperor’s own army ? 
O God of heaven! what a change is this. 
Beseems it me to offer such persuasion 
To thee, who like the fixed star of the pole 
Wert all I gazed at on life’s trackless ocean ? 
O! what a rent thou makest in my heart! 
The ingrained instinct of old reverence, 
The holy habit of obediency, 
Must I pluck life asunder from thy name ? 
Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me — 
It always was as a god looking upon me! 
Duke Wallenstein, its power has not departed ; 
The senses still are in thy bonds, although 
Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Max., hear me, 
MAX. 


Oh, do it not, I pray thee, do it not! 

There is a pure and noble soul within thee, 
Knows not of this unblest unlucky doing. 

Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only 

Which hath polluted thee — and innocence, 

It will not let itself be driven away 

From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not, 
Thou canst not end in this. It would reduce 
All human creatures to disloyalty 

Against the nobleness of their own nature. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 189 


Twill justify the vulgar misbelief, 

Which holdeth nothing noble in free will, 
And trusts itself to impotence alone, 

Made powerful only in an unknown power. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The world will judge me harshly, I expect it. 
Already have I said to my own self 

All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids 
The extreme, can he by going round avoid it ? 
But here there is no choice. Yes, I must use 
Or suffer violence — so stands the case; 
There remains nothing possible but that. 


MAX. 


Oh, that is never possible for thee! 

"Tis the last desperate resource of those 

Cheap souls, to whom their honour, their good name, 
Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep, 

Which, having staked and lost, they staked themselves 
In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich 

And glorious; with an unpolluted heart 

Thou canst make conquest of whate’er seems highest ! 
But he who once hath acted infamy 

Does nothing more in this world. 


WALLENSTEIN (grasps his hand). 


Calmly, Max. ! 
Much that is great and excellent will we 
Perform together yet. And if we only 
Stand on the height with dignity, ’tis soon 
Forgotten, Max., by what road we ascended. 
Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now, 
That yet was deeply sullied in the winning. 
To the evil spirit doth the earth belong, 
Not to the good. All that the powers divine 


190 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Send from above are universal blessings : 

Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes, 

But never yet was man enriched by them: 

In their eternal realm no property 

Is to be struggled for — all there is general. 
The jewel, the all-valued gold we win 

From the deceiving powers, depraved in nature, 
That dwell beneath the day and blessed sunlight. 
Not without sacrifices are they rendered 
Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth 
That e’er retired unsullied from their service. 


MAX. 


Whate’er is human to the human being 

Do I allow — and to the vehement 

And striving spirit readily I pardon 

The excess of action; but to thee, my general ! 
Above all others make I large concession. 

For thou must move a world and be the master — 
He kills thee who condemns thee to inaction. 
So be it then! maintain thee in thy post 

By violence. Resist the emperor, 

And if it must be force with force repel ; 

I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it. 

But not — not to the traitor — yes! the word 
Is spoken out — 

Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon. 

That is no mere excess! that is no error 

Of human nature — that is wholly different. 
Oh, that is black, black as the pit of hell! 


| WALLENSTEIN betrays a sudden agitation. 


Thou canst not hear it named, and wilt thou do it ? 
O turn back to thy duty. That thou canst, 

I hold it certain. Send me to Vienna; 

Pll make thy peace for thee with the emperor. 

He knows thee not. But I do know thee. He 


es 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN Uiot 


Shall see thee, duke! with my unclouded eye, 
And I bring back his confidence to thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
It is too late! Thou knowest not what has happened. 


MAX. 


Were it too late, and were things gone so far, 

That a crime only could prevent thy fall, 

Then — fall! fall honourably, even as thou stoodest. 
Lose the command. Go from the stage of war! 
Thou canst with splendour do it — do it too 

With innocence. Thou hast lived much for others, 
At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee. 
My destiny I never part from thine. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It is too late! Even now, while thou art losing 
Thy words, one after another, are the mile-stones 
Left fast behind by my post couriers, 
Who bear the order on to Prague and Eger. 
[Max. stands as convulsed, with a gesture and 
countenance expressing the most intense an- 
ursh. 
Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced. 
I cannot give assent to my own shame 
And ruin. Thou— no—thou canst not forsake me! 
So let us do, what must be done, with dignity, 
With a firm step. What am I doing worse 
Than did famed Cesar at the Rubicon, 
When he the legions led against his country, 
The which his country had delivered to him ? 
Had he thrown down the sword, he had been lost. 
As I were, if I but disarmed myself. 


192 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


I trace out something in me of this spirit. 
Give me his luck, that other thing I'll bear. 

[Max. quits him abruptly. WALLENSTEIN, startled 
and overpowered, continues looking after him, 
and ts still im this posture when TERZKY 
enters. 


ScENE ITI. 
WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY. 


TERZKY. 
Max. Piccolomini just left you ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Where is Wrangel ? 


TERZKY. 
He is already gone. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
In such a hurry ? 


TERZKY. 


It is as if the earth had swallowed him. 

He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him. 

I wished some words with him — but he was gone. 
How, when, and where, could no one tell me. Nay, 
I half believe it was the devil himself; 

A human creature could not so at once 

Have vanished. 


ILLO (enters). 


Is it true that thou wilt send 
Octavio ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 193 


TERZKY. 
How, Octavio! Whither send him ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


He goes to Frauenburg, and will lead hither 
The Spanish and Italian regiments. 


ILLO. 
No! 
Nay, heaven forbid ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And why should heaven forbid ? 


ILLO. 


Him !— that deceiver! Wouldst thou trust to him 
The soldiery ? Him wilt thou let slip from thee, 
Now in the very instant that decides us — 


TERZKY. 
Thou wilt not do this! No! I pray thee, no! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Ye are whimsical. 
ILLO. 
O but for this time, duke, 
Yield to our warning! Let him not depart. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And why should I not trust him only this time, 
Who have always trusted him? What, then, has 
happened 
That I should lose my good opinion of him ? 


194 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


In complaisance to your whims, not my own, 

I must, forsooth, give up a rooted judgment. 
Think not Iam awoman. Having trusted him 
F’en till to-day, to-day too will I trust him. 


TERZKY. 
Must it be he—he only? Send another. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It must be he, whom I myself have chosen ; 
He is well fitted for the business. Therefore 
I gave it him. 

ILLO. 


Because he’s an Italian — 
Therefore is he well fitted for the business! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I know you love them not, nor sire nor son, 
Because that I esteem them, love them, visibly 
Esteem them, love them more than you and others, 
E’en as they merit. Therefore are they eye-blights, 
Thorns in your footpath. But your jealousies, 

In what affect they me or my concerns ? 

Are they the worse to me because you hate them ? 
Love or hate one another as you will, 

I leave to each man his own moods and likings; 
Yet know the worth of each of you to me. 


ILLO. 


Von Questenberg, while he was here, was always 
Lurking about with this Octavio. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
It happened with my knowledge and permission. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ILLO. 


I know that secret messengers came to him 
From Gallas — 
WALLENSTEIN. 


That’s not true. 


ILLO. 


O thou art blind, 
With thy deep-seeing eyes ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou wilt not shake 
My faith for me; my faith, which founds itself 
On the profoundest science. If ’tis false, 
Then the whole science of the stars is false; 
For know, I have a pledge from Fate itself, 
That he is the most faithful of my friends. 


ILLO. 
Hast thou a pledge that this pledge is not false ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


There exist moments in the life of man, 
When he is nearer the great Soul of the world 
Than is man’s custom, and possesses freely 
The power of questioning his destiny : 

And such a moment ’twas, when in the night 
Before the action in the plains of Lutzen, 


+95 


Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts, 


I looked out far upon the ominous plain. 

My whole life, past and future, in this moment 
Before my mind’s eye glided in procession, 
And to the destiny of the next morning 

The spirit, filled with anxious presentiment, 
Did knit the most removed futurity. 


196 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Then said I also to myself, “So many 

Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars, 

And as on some great number set their all 

Upon thy single head, and only man 

The vessel of thy fortune. Yet a day 

Will come, when destiny shall once more scatter 

All these in many a several direction : 

Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee.” 

I yearned to know which one was faithfulest 

Of all, this camp included. Great destiny, 

Give me a sign! And he shall be the man, 

Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first 

To meet me with a token of his love: 

And thinking this, I fell into a slumber, 

Then midmost in the battle was I led 

In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult! 

Then was my horse killed under me: I sank; 

And over me away, all unconcernedly, 

Drove horse and rider — and thus trod to pieces 

I lay, and panted like a dying man; 

Then seized me suddenly a saviour arm ; 

It was Octavio’s —I woke at once, 

"Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me. 

“ My brother,” said he, “do not ride to-day 

The dapple, as your wont; but mount the horse 

Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother! 

In love to me A_ strong dream warned 
So.” 


me 


It was the swiftness of this horse that snatched 


me 

From the hot pursuit of Bannier’s dragoons. 
My cousin rode the dapple on that day, 
And never more saw I or horse or rider. 


ILLO. 
That was a chance. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 197 


WALLENSTEIN (segnificantly). 


There’s no such thing as chance, 
And what to us seems merest accident | 
Springs from the deepest source of destiny. 
In brief, ’tis signed and sealed that this Octavio 
Is my good angel — and now no word more. 
[He is retiring. 
TERZKY. 


This is my comfort — Max. remains our hostage. 


ILLO. 
And he shall never stir from here alive. 


WALLENSTEIN (stops and turns himself around). 


Are ye not like the women, who for ever 

Only recur to their first word, although 

One had been talking reason by the hour! 

Know, that the human being’s thoughts and deeds 
Are not like ocean billows, blindly moved. 

The inner world, his microcosmus, is 

The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally. 
They grow by certain laws, like the tree’s fruit — 
No juggling chance can metamorphose them. 
Have I the human kernel first examined ? 

Then I know, too, the future will and action. [Hzxewnt. 


ScENE IV. 


Chamber in the residence of PICCOLOMINI: OcTAVIO Pic- 
COLOMINI (attered for travelling), an ADJUTANT. 


OCTAVIO. 
Is the detachment here ? 


198 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ADJUTANT. 
It waits below. 


OCTAVIO. 


And are the soldiers trusty, adjutant ? 
Say, from what regiment hast thou chosen them ? 


ADJUTANT. 
From Tiefenbach’s. 
OCTAVIO. . 


That regiment is loyal, 
Keep them in silence in the inner court, 
Unseen by all, and when the signal peals 
Then close the doors, keep watch upon the house. 
And all ye meet be instantly arrested. [ Hait ADJUTANT. 
I hope indeed I shall not need their service, 
So certain feel I of my well-laid plans; 
But when an empire's safety is at stake 
’Twere better too much caution than too little. 


SCENE V. 


A chamber in PICCOLOMINI’S dwelling-house : OCTAVIO 
PICCOLOMINI, ISOLANI, entering. 
ISOLANI. 
Here am I — well! who comes yet of the others ? 


OCTAVIO (with an air of mystery). 
But, first, a word with you, Count Isolani. 


ISOLANI (assuming the same air of mystery). 


Will it explode, ha? Is the duke about 
To make the attempt? In me, friend, you may place 
Full confidence — nay, put me to the proof. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 199 


OCTAVIO. 
That may happen. 


ISOLANI. 


Noble brother, I am 
Not one of those men who in words are valiant, 
And when it comes to action skulk away. 
The duke has acted toward me as a friend: 
God knows it is so; and I owe him all; 
He may rely on my fidelity. © 


OCTAVIO. 
That will be seen hereafter. 


ISOLANI. 


Be on your guard, 
All think not as I think; and there are many 
Who still hold with the court — yes, and they say 
That these stolen signatures bind them to nothing. 


OCTAVIO. 
Indeed! Pray name to me the chiefs that think so. 


ISOLANI. 


Plague upon them! all the Germans think so. 
Esterhazy, Kaunitz, Deodati, too, 
Insist upon obedience to the court. 


OCTAVIO. 
I am rejoiced to hear it. 


ISOLANI. 
You rejoice? 


200 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


OCTAVIO. 


That the emperor has yet such gallant servants, 
And loving friends. 
ISOLANI. 
Nay, jeer not, I entreat you. 
They are no such worthless fellows, I assure you. 


OCTAVIO. 


I am assured already. God forbid 
That I should jest! In very serious earnest, 
IT am rejoiced to see an honest cause 
So strong. 
ISOLANI. 


The devil ! — what !— why, what means this ? 
Are you not, then — For what, then, am I here ? 


OCTAVIO. 


That you may make full declaration, whether 
You will be called the friend or enemy 
Of the emperor. 


ISOLANI (with an atr of defiance). 


That declaration, friend, 
Pll make to him in whom a right is placed 
To put that question to me. 


OCTAVIO. 


Whether, count, 
That right is mine, this paper may instruct you. 


ISOLANI (stammering). 


Why, — why — what! this is the emperor’s hand and 
seal [ Reads. 

“ Whereas the officers collectively 

Throughout our army will obey the orders 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 201 


Of the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini, 
As from ourselves.” — Hem !— Yes! so!— Yes! yes! 
I —I give you joy, leutenant-general ! 


OCTAVIO. 
And you submit to the order ? 


ISOLANI. 


pi bees 
But you have taken me so by surprise — 
Time for reflection one must have — 


OCTAVIO. 
Two minutes. 
ISOLANI. 


My God! but then the case is — 


OCTAVIO. 
Plain and simple. 
You must declare you, whether you determine 
To act a treason ’gainst your lord and sovereign, 
Or whether you will serve him faithfully. 


ISOLANI. 
Treason! My God! But who talks then of treason ? 


OCTAVIO. 


That is the case, The prince-duke is a traitor — 
Means to lead over to the enemy 

The emperor’s army. Now, count! brief and full — 
Say, will you break your oath to the emperor ? 

Sell yourself to the enemy? Say, will you? 


ISOLANI. 
What mean you?) I—TI break my oath, d’ye say 
To his imperial majesty ? 
Did I say so! When, when have I said that ? 


202 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


OCTAVIO. 


You have not said it yet — not yet. This instant 
I wait to hear, count, whether you will say it. 


ISOLANI. 


Ay! that delights me now, that you yourself 
Bear witness for me that I never said so. 


OCTAVIO. 
And you renounce the duke then ? 


ISOLANI. 
If he’s planning 
Treason — why, treason breaks all bonds asunder. 


OCTAVIO. 
And are determined, too, to fight against him ? 


ISOLANI. 


He has done me service — but if he’s a villain, 
Perdition seize him! All scores are rubbed off. 


OCTAVIO. 


I am rejoiced that you are so well disposed. 

This night break off in the utmost secrecy 

With all the light-armed troops — it must appear 
As came the order from the duke himself. 

At Frauenburg’s the place of rendezvous ; 

There will Count Gallas give you further orders. 


ISOLANI. 


It shall be done. But you'll remember me 
With the emperor — how well disposed you found me. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 203 


OCTAVIO. 
I will not fail to mention it honourably. 
[Hat IsoLANI. A SERVANT enters. 
What, Colonel Butler! Show him up. 
ISOLANI (returning). 


Forgive me too my bearish ways, old father! 
Lord God! how should I know, then, what a great 
Person I had before me. : 


OCTAVIO. 


No excuses ! 


ISOLANI. 


IT am a merry lad, and if at time 
A rash word might escape me ’gainst the court 
Amidst my wine, — you know no harm was meant. 
[ Lait. 
OCTAVIO. 


You need not be uneasy on that score. 

That has succeeded. Fortune favour us 

With all the others only but as much. 
Scene VI. 


OcTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER. 


BUTLER. 


At your command, lieutenant-general. 


OCTAVIO. 


Welcome, as honoured friend and visitor. 


BUTLER. 


You do me too much honour. 


204 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


OCTAVIO (after both have seated themselves). 


You have not 
Returned the advances which I made you yesterday — 
Misunderstood them as mere empty forms. 
That wish proceeded from my heart —I was 
In earnest with you — for ’tis now a time 
In which the honest should unite most closely. 


BUTLER. 
‘Tis only the like-minded can unite. 


OCTAVIO. 


True! and I name all honest men like-minded. 

I never charge a man but with those acts 

To which his character deliberately 

Impels him; for alas! the violence 

Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts 

The very best of us from the right track. 

You came through Frauenburg. Did the Count Gallas 
Say nothing to you? Tell me. He’s my friend. 


BUTLER. 
His words were lost on me. 


OCTAVIO. 


It grieves me sorely 
To hear it: for his counsel was most wise. 
I had myself the like to offer. 


BUTLER. 


Spare 
Yourself the trouble — me the embarrassment 
To have deserved so ill your good opinion. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 205 


OCTAVIO. 


The time is precious — let us talk openly. 

You know how matters stand here. Wallenstein 
Meditates treason —I can tell you further, 

He has committed treason ; but few hours 

Have passed since he a covenant concluded 
With the enemy. The messengers are now 

Full on their way to Egra and to Prague. 
To-morrow he intends to lead us over 

To the enemy. But he deceives himself ; 

For prudence wakes — the emperor has still 
Many and faithful friends here, and they stand 
In closest union, mighty though unseen. 

This manifesto sentences the duke — 

Recalls the obedience of the army from him, 
And summons all the loyal, all the honest, 

To join and recognise in me their leader. 

Choose — will you share with us an honest cause ? 
Or with the evil share an evil lot ? 


BUTLER (71s¢s). 
His lot is mine. 


OCTAVIO. 
Is that your last resolve ? 


BUTLER. 
It is. 


OCTAVIO. 


Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler. 
As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast 
That rashly uttered word remains interred. 
Recall it, Butler! choose a better party ; 
You have not chosen the right one. 


206 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER (going). 


Any other 
Commands for me, lieutenant-general ? 


OCTAVIO. 


See your white hairs ; recall that word! 


BUTLER. 
: Farewell ! 


OCTAVIO. 


What! Would you draw this good and gallant sword 
In such a cause? Into a curse would you 

Transform the gratitude which you have earned 

By forty years’ fidelity from Austria ? 


BUTLER (laughing with bitterness). 
Gratitude from the House of Austria! [ He ts going. 


OCTAVIO (permits him to go as far as the door, then 
calls after him). 
Butler! 


BUTLER. 
What wish you ? 
OCTAVIO. 


How wast with the count ? 


BUTLER. 
Count? what ? 
OCTAVIO (coldly). 


The title that you wished, I mean. 


BUTLER (starts in sudden passion). 
Hell and damnation ! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 207 


OCTAVIO (coldly). 


You petitioned for it — 
And your petition was repelled — was it so? 


BUTLER. 


Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunished. 
Draw ! 
OCTAVIO. 


Nay! your sword to its sheath! and tell me calmly 
How all that happened. I will not refuse you 
Your satisfaction afterwards. Calmly, Butler! 


BUTLER. 


Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness 
For which I never can forgive myself, 
Lieutenant-general! Yes; I have ambition. 

Ne’er was I able to endure contempt. 

It stung me to the quick that birth and title 
Should have more weight than merit has in the army. 
I would fain not be meaner than my equal, 

So in an evil hour [I let myself 

Be tempted to that measure. It was folly! 

But yet so hard a penance it deserved not. 

It might have been refused ; but wherefore barb 
And venom the refusal with contempt ? 

Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn 
The gray-haired man, the faithful veteran ? 

Why to the baseness of his parentage 

Refer him with such cruel roughness, only 

Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself ? 
But nature gives a sting e’en to the worm 

Which wanton power treads on in sport and insult. 


OCTAVIO. 


You must have been calumniated. Guess you 
The enemy who did you this ill service ? 


208 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 


Be’t who it will —a most low-hearted scoundrel ! 
Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard ; 
Some young squire of some ancient family, 

In whose light I may stand; some envious knave, 
Stung to his soul by my fair self-earned honours! 


OCTAVIO. 
But tell me, did the duke approve that measure ? 


BUTLER. 


Himself impelled me to it, used his interest 
In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship. 


OCTAVIO. 
Ay! are you sure of that ? 


BUTLER. 
I read the letter. 


OCTAVIO. 


And so did I — but the contents were different. 
[BUTLER 7s suddenly struck. 
By chance I’m in possession of that letter — 
Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you. 
[ He gives him the letter. 


BUTLER. 
Ha! what is this ? 
OCTAVIO. 


I fear me, Colonel Butler, 
An infamous game have they been playing with you. 
The duke, you say, impelled you to this measure ? 
Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 209 


Concerning you; counsels the minister 

To give sound chastisement to your conceit, 

For so he calls it. 
[BUTLER reads through the letter ; his knees tremble, 

he seizes a chair and sinks down wn tt. 

You have no enemy, no persecutor ; 

There’s no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe 

The insult you received to the duke only. 

His aim is clear and palpable. He wished 

To tear you from your emperor: he hoped 

To gain from your revenge what he well knew 

(What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) 

He ne’er could dare expect from your calm reason. 

A blind tool would he make you, in contempt 

Use you, as means of most abandoned ends. 

He has gained his point. Too well has he suc- 
ceeded 

In luring you away from that good path 

On which you had been journeying forty years! 


BUTLER (his voice trembling). 
Can e’er the emperor's majesty forgive me? 


OCTAVIO. 


More than forgive you. He would fain compensate 

For that affront, and most unmerited grievance 

Sustained by a deserving gallant veteran. 

From his free impulse he confirms the present 

Which the duke made you for a wicked purpose. 

The regiment, which you now command, is yours. 

[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again. He 

labours inwardly with violent emotions ; trees 
to speak and cannot. At length he takes his 
sword from the belt, and offers it to PIcco- 
LOMINI. 


210 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


OCTAVIO. 


What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend. 


BUTLER. 
Take it. 
OCTAVIO. 
But to what purpose? Calm yourself. 
BUTLER. 
O take it! 


I am no longer worthy of this sword. 


OCTAVIO. 


Receive it then anew, from my hands — and 
Wear it with honour for the right cause ever. 


BUTLER. 
Perjure myself to such a gracious sovereign / 


OCTAVIO. 
You'll make amends. Quick! break off from the duke! 


BUTLER. 
Break off from him! 
OCTAVIO. 


What now? Bethink thyself. 


BUTLER (no longer governing his emotion). 
Only break off from him? He dies! he dies! 


OCTAVIO. 


Come after me to Frauenburg, where now 
All who are loyal are assembling under 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 211 


Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others 
[ve brought to a remembrance of their duty: 
This night be sure that you escape from Pilsen. 


BUTLER (strides wp and down in excessive agitation, 
then steps wp to OCTAVIO with resolved countenance). 


Count Piccolomini! dare that man speak 
Of honour to you, who once broke his troth ? 


OCTAVIO. 
He who repents so deeply of it dares. 


BUTLER. 
Then leave me here upon my word of honour! 


OCTAVIO. 
What’s your design ? 
BUTLER. 


Leave me and my regiment. 


OCTAVIO. 


I have full confidence in you. But tell me 
What are you brooding ? 


BUTLER. 


That the deed will tell you. 
Ask me no more at present. Trust to me. 
Ye may trust safely. By the living God, 
Ye give him over, not to his good angel ! 
Farewell. [Lait BUTLER. 


SERVANT (enters with a billet). 


A stranger left it, and is gone. 
The prince-duke’s horses wait for you below. 
[Haut SERVANT. 


212 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


OCTAVIO (reads). 


«Be sure, make haste! Your faithful Isolani.” 
— O that I had but left this town behind me. 
To split upon a rock so near the haven! 
Away! This is no longer a safe place 

For me! Where can my son be tarrying! 


\ 


ScENE VII. 
OcTAVIO and Max. PICCOLOMINI. 


Max. enters almost in a state of derangement, from 
extreme agitation ; his eyes roll wildly, his walk 
as unsteady, and he appears not to observe his 
Sather, who stands at a distance, and gazes at him 
with a countenance expressive of compassion. He 
paces with long strides through tie chamber, then 
stands still again, and at last throws himself into 
a chair, staring vacantly at the object directly be- 
Sore hum. 


OCTAVIO (advances to him). 
I am going off, my son. 
| Recewing no answer, he takes his hand. 
My son, farewell. 
MAX. 
Farewell. 
OCTA VIO. 


Thou wilt soon follow me ? 


MAX. 
I follow thee ? 
Thy way is crooked — it is not my way. 
[Octavio drops his hand and starts back. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 213 


Oh, hadst thou been but simple and sincere, 

Ne’er had it come to this — all had stood otherwise. 
He had not done that foul and horrible deed, 

The virtuous had retained their influence over him: 
He had not fallen into the snares of villains. 
Wherefore so like a thief and thief’s accomplice 
Didst creep behind him lurking for thy prey ! 

Oh, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil! 

Thou misery-making demon, it is thou 

That sinkest us in perdition. Simple truth, 
Sustainer of the world, had saved us all! 

Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! 
Wallenstein has deceived me — oh, most foully ! 
But thou hast acted not much better. 


OCTAVIO. 
Son, 
My son, ah! I forgive thy agony ! 


MAX. (rises and contemplates his father with looks 
of suspicion). 

Was'’t possible ? hadst thou the heart, my father, 
Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, 
With cold premeditated purpose? Thou — 
Hadst thou the heart to wish to see him guilty 
Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall. 
Octavio, twill not please me. 


OCTAVIO. 
God in heaven! 


MAX. 


Oh, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature. 
How comes suspicion here — in the free soul ? 
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all 

Lied to me, all that I e’er loved or honoured. 


214 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


No, no! not all! She — she yet lives for me, 
And she is true, and open as the heavens! 
Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy, 

Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury : 

The single holy spot is our love, 

The only unprofaned in human nature. 


\ 


OCTAVIO. 
Max. — we will go together. ’*T will be better. 


MAX. 


What ? ere I’ve taken a last parting leave, 
The very last — no, never ! 


OCTAVIO. 
Spare thyself 
The pang of necessary separation. .. 
Come with me! Come, my son! 
[ Attempts to take him with him. 


MAX. 
No! as sure as God lives, no! 


OCTAVIO (more urgently). 
Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father. 


MAX. 
Command me what is human. I stay here. 


OCTAVIO. 
Max.! in the emperor’s name I bid thee come. 


MAX. 


No emperor has power to prescribe 
Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 215 


Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me, 
Her sympathy ? Must then a cruel deed 

Be done with cruelty? The unalterable 

Shall I perform ignobly — steal away, 

With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! 
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish, 
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul, 

And weep tears o’er me. Oh! the human race 
Have steely souls — but she is as an angel. 
From the black deadly madness of despair 
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words 

Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death! 


OCTAVIO. 


Thou wilt not tear thyself away ; thou canst not. 
Oh, come, my son! Ibid thee save thy virtue. 


MAX. 


Squander not thou thy words in vain. 
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it. 


OCTAVIO (trembling and losing all self-command). 


Max.! Max.! if that most damned thing could be, 

If thou— my son—my own blood — (dare I think 
it ?) 

Do sell thyself to him, the infamous, 

Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, 

Then shall the world behold the horrible deed, 

And in unnatural combat shall the steel 

Of the son trickle with the father’s blood. 


MAX. 


Oh, hadst thou always better thought of men, 
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion, 
Unholy, miserable doubt! To him 


216 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm 
Who has no faith. 
OCTAVIO. 


And if I trust thy heart, 
Will it be always in thy power to follow it 
MAX. 
The heart’s voice thou hast not o’erpowered — as little 
Will Wallenstein be able to o’erpower it. 
OCTAVIO. 
O, Max.! I see thee never more again! 


. MAX. 
Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me. 


OCTAVIO. 


I go to Frauenburg — the Pappenheimers 

I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokana 
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee. 
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath, 
And will far rather fall in gallant contest 

Than leave their rightful leader and their honour. 


MAX. 
Rely on this, I either leave my life 
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen. 


OCTAVIO. 
Farewell, my son! 
MAX. 


Farewell ! 


OCTAVIO. 


How! not one look 
Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 217 


It is a bloody war to which we are going, 
And the event uncertain and in darkness. 
So used we not to part — it was not so! 
Is it then true? I have a son no longer ? 
[Max. falls into his arms, they hold each other for 
a long time in a speechless embrace, then go 
away at different sides. 
(The curtain drops.) 


ACT IIL 
SCENE I. 
A chamber in the house of the Duchess of Friedland. 


Countess TERZKY, THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN (the two 
latter sit at the same table at work). 


COUNTESS (watching them from the opposite side). 


So you have nothing to ask me — nothing ? 
I have been waiting for a word from you. 
And could you then endure in all this time 
Not once to speak his name? 
[THEKLA remaining silent the COUNTESS rises and 
advances to her. 
Why, how comes this ? 
Perhaps I am already grown superfiuous, 
And other ways exist, besides through me ? 
Confess it to me, Thekla: have you seen him ? 


THEKLA. 
To-day and yesterday I have not seen him. 


COUNTESS. 
And not heard from him, either? Come, be open. 


218 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


THEKLA. 
No syllable. 
COUNTESS. 


And still you are so calm? 


THEKLA. 
IT am. 
COUNTESS. 


May it please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn. 
[Heit LADY NEUBRUNN. 


ScENE II. 
The COUNTESS, THEKLA. 


COUNTESS. 


It does not please me, princess, that he holds 
Himself so still, exactly at this time. 


THEKLA. 
Exactly at this time ? 
COUNTESS. 


He now knows all. 
’Twere now the moment to declare himself 


THEKLA. 
If I’m to understand you, speak less darkly. 


COUNTESS. 


"Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us. 
Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart 

Is no more in nonage: for you love, 

And boldness dwells with love — that you have proved 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 219 


Your nature moulds itself upon your father’s 
More than your mother’s spirit. Therefore may you 
Hear what were too much for her fortitude. 


THEKLA. 


Enough: no further preface, I entreat you. 

At once, out with it! Be it what it may, 

It is not possible that it should torture me 
More than this introduction. What have you 
To say to me? Tell me the whole, and briefly ! 


COUNTESS. 
You'll not be frightened — 


THEKLA. 
Name it, I entreat you. 


COUNTESS. 


It lies within your power to do your father 
A weighty service — 
THEKLA. 


Lies within my power. 


COUNTESS. 


Max. Piccolomini loves you. You can lnk him 
Indissolubly to your father. 


THEKLA. 


I? 
What need of me for that? And is he not 
Already linked to him ? 


COUNTESS. 


He was. 


220 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


THEKLA. 


And wherefore 
Should he not be so now — not be so always ? 


COUNTESS. 
He cleaves to the emperor too. 


THEKLA. 


Not more than duty 
And honour may demand of him. 


COUNTESS. 


We ask 
Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honour. 
Duty and honour! 
Those are ambiguous words with many meanings. 
You should interpret them for him: his love 
Should be the sole definer of his honour. 


THEKLA. 
How ? 


COUNTESS. 
The emperor or you must he renounce. 


THEKLA. 


He will accompany my father gladly 
In his retirement. From himself you heard, 
How much he wished to lay aside the sword. 


COUNTESS. 


He must not lay the sword aside, we mean; 
He must unsheath it in your father’s cause. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 221 


THEKLA. 


He'll spend with gladness and alacrity 
His life, his heart’s blood in my father’s cause, 
If shame or injury be intended him. 


COUNTESS. 


You will not understand me. Well, hear then :— 
Your father has fallen off from the emperor, 

And is about to join the enemy 

With the whole soldiery — 


THEKLA. 
Alas, my mother ! 


COUNTESS. 


There needs a great example to draw on 

The army after him. The Piccolomini 
Possess the love and reverence of the troops ; 
They govern all opinions, and wherever 
They lead the way, none hesitate to follow. 
The son secures the father to our interests — 
You’ve much in your hands at this moment. 


THEKLA. 


Ah, 
My miserable mother! what a death-stroke 
Awaits thee! No:! she never will survive it. 


COUNTESS. 


She will accommodate her soul to that 

Which is and must be. Ido know your mother! 
The far-off future weighs upon her heart 

With torture of anxiety; but is it 

Unalterably, actually present, 

She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly. 


222 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


THEKLA. 


O my foreboding bosom! Even now, 

Een now ’tis here, that icy hand of horror! 

And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp; 
I knew it well — no sooner had I entered, 

An heavy ominous presentiment 

Revealed to me that spirits of death were hovering 
Over my happy fortune. But why think I 

First of myself? My mother! O my mother! 


COUNTESS. 


Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting! 
Preserve you for your father the firm friend, 

And for yourself the lover, all will yet 

Prove good and fortunate. 


THEKLA. 


Prove good! What good ? 
Must we not part; part ne’er to meet again ? 


COUNTESS. 
He parts not from you! He cannot part from you. 


THEKLA. 


Alas, for his sore anguish! It will rend 
His heart asunder. 
COUNTESS. 


If indeed he loves you, 
His resolution will be speedily taken. 


THEKLA. 


His resolution will be speedily taken — 
Oh, do not doubt of that! <A resolution : 
Does there remain one to be taken ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 223 


COUNTESS. 
Hush! 
Collect yourself! I hear your mother coming. 


THEKLA. 
How shall I bear to see her ? 


COUNTESS. 
Collect yourself. 


ScEnE IIT. 
To them enter the DUCHESS. 


DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS). 


Who was here, sister? I heard some one talking, 
And passionately, too. 


COUNTESS. 
Nay, there was no one. 


DUCHESS. 


I am growing so timorous, every trifling noise 
Scatters my spirits, and announces to me 

The footstep of some messenger of evil. 

And you can tell me, sister, what the event is ? 
Will he agree to do the emperor’s pleasure, 
And send the horse regiments to the cardinal ? 
Tell me, has he dismissed Von Questenberg 
With a favourable answer ? 


COUNTESS. 
No, he has not. 


224 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


DUCHESS. 


Alas! then all is lost! I see it coming, 

The worst that can come! Yes, they will depose him, 
The accursed business of the Regensburg diet 

Will all be acted o’er again ! 


COUNTESS. 


No! never! 
Make your heart easy, sister, as to that. 
[THEKLA, in extreme agitation, throws herself upon 
her mother, and enfolds her in her arms, 
weeprng. 


DUCHESS. 
Yes, my poor child! 

Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother 
In the empress. Oh, that stern, unbending man! 
In this unhappy marriage what have I 
Not suffered, not endured? For even as if 
I had been linked on to some wheel of fire 
That restless, ceaseless, whirls impetuous onward, 
I have passed a life of frights and horrors with him, 
And ever to the brink of some abyss 
With dizzy headlong violence he bears me. 
Nay, do not weep, my child. Let not my sufferings 
Presignify unhappiness to thee, 
Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits thee. 
Their lives no second Friedland ; thou, my child, 
Hast not to fear thy mother’s destiny. 


THEKLA. 


Oh, let us supplicate him, dearest mother! 
Quick! quick! here’s no abiding-place for us. 
Here every coming hour broods into life 
Some new affrightful monster. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 225 


DUCHESS. 


Thou wilt share 
An easier, calmer lot, my child! We, too, 
I and thy father, witnessed happy days. 
Still think I with delight of those first years, 
When he was making progress with glad effort, 
When his ambition was a genial fire, 
Not that consuming flame which now it is. 
The emperor loved him, trusted him; and all 
He undertook could not but be successful. 
But since that ill-starred day at Regensburg, 
Which plunged him headlong from his dignity, 
A gloomy, uncompanionable spirit, 
Unsteady and suspicious, has possessed him. 
His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer 
Did he yield up himself in joy and faith 
To his old luck and individual power ; 
But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections 
All to those cloudy sciences which never 
Have yet made happy him who followed them. 


COUNTESS. 


You see it, sister! as your eyes permit you, 

But surely this is not the conversation 

To pass the time in which we are waiting for him. 
You know he will be soon here. Would you have him 
Find her in this condition ? 


DUCHESS. 


Come, my child! 
Come, wipe away thy tears, and show thy father 
A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here 
Is off ; this hair must not hang so dishevelled. 
Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform 
Thy gentle eye. Well, now — what was I saying ? 


226 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini 
Is a most noble and deserving gentleman. 


COUNTESS. 
That is he, sister ! 


THEKLA (to the COUNTESS, with marks of great oppres- 
sion of spirits). 


Aunt, you will excuse me? [Js going. 


COUNTESS. 
But, whither? See, your father comes 


THEKLA. 
I cannot see him now. 


COUNTESS. 
Nay, but bethink you. 


THEKLA. 
Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence. 


COUNTESS. 
But he will miss you, will ask after you. 


DUCHESS. 
What, now? Why is she going ? 
COUNTESS. 
She’s not well. 
DUCHESS (anxiously). 


What ails, then, my beloved child ? 
[Both follow the PRINCESS, and endeavour to detain 
her. During this WALLENSTEIN appears, en- 
gaged in conversation with ILLo. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ScENE LV. 


227 


WALLENSTEIN, ILLo, CounTESs, DucHESS, THEKLA. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


All quiet in the camp ? 
ILLO. 


It is all quiet. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


In a few hours may couriers come from Prague 
With tidings that this capital is ours. 

Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops 
Assembled in this town make known the measure 
And its result together. In such cases 

Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost 
Still leads the herd. An imitative creature 

Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other, 
Than that the Pilsen army has gone through 

The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen 

They shall swear fealty to us, because 

The example has been given them by Prague. 
Butler, you tell me, has declared himself ? 


ILLO. 


At his own bidding, unsolicited, 
He came to offer you himself and regiment. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I find we must not give implicit credence 

To every warning voice that makes itself 

Be listened to in the heart. To hold us back, 
Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit 

The voice of truth and inward revelation, 


228 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Scattering false oracles. And thus have I 

To entreat forgiveness for that secretly. 

I’ve wronged this honourable gallant man, 

This Butler: for a feeling of the which 

I am not master (fear I would not call it), 

Creeps o’er me instantly, with sense of shuddering, 
At his approach, and stops love’s joyous motion. 
And this same man, against whom I am warned, 
This honest man is he who reaches to me 

The first pledge of my fortune. 


ILLO. 
And doubt not 
That his example will win over to you 
The best men in the army. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Go and send 
Isolani hither. Send him immediately. 
He is under recent obligations to me: 
With him will I commence the trial. Go. [Hx ILLo. 


WALLENSTEIN (turns himself around to the females). 


Lo, there’s the mother with the darling daughter. 
For once we'll have an interval of rest — 

Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour 
In the beloved circle of my family. 


COUNTESS. 
Tis long since we’ve been thus together, brother. 


WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS, aside). 
Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared ? 


COUNTESS. 
Not yet. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 


229 


Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me, 


For there is a good spirit on thy lips. 

Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill; 

She says a voice of melody dwells in thee, 
Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice 
Will drive away from me the evil demon 

That beats his black wings close above my head. 


DUCHESS. 


Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father 
Hear some small trial of thy skill. 


THEKLA. 
My mother 
| ual 
DUCHESS. 
Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer 
Thy father. 
THEKLA. 


O my mother! I—I cannot. 


COUNTESS. 
How, what is that, niece ? 


THEKLA (to the COUNTESS). 


O spare me — sing — now — in this sore anxiety 
Of the overburdened soul — to sing to him 

Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong 
Into her grave. 


DUCHESS. 
How, Thekla! Humoursome! 


What! shall thy father have expressed a wish 
In vain ? 


230 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 
Here is the lute. 


THEKLA. 


My God! how can I — 

[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello 
THEKLA expresses in her gestures and counte- 
nance the struggle of her feelings ; and at the 
moment that she should begin to sing contracts 
herself together, as one shuddering, throws the 
enstrument down, and retires abruptly. 


DUCHESS. 
My child! Oh, is she ill — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What ails the maiden ? 
Say, is she often so ? 


COUNTESS. 


Since then herself 
Has now betrayed it, I too must no long 
Conceal it. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


What ? 
COUNTESS. 


She loves him ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Loves him? Whom ? 


COUNTESS. 


Max. does she love! Max. Piccolomini! 
Hast thou never noticed it? Nor yet my sister? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 231 


DUCHESS. 


Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart ? 
God’s blessing on thee, my sweet child! Thou needest 
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice. 


COUNTESS. 


This journey, if ’twere not thy aim, ascribe it 
To thine own self. Thou shouldst have chosen another 
To have attended her. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And does he know it ? 


COUNTESS. 
Yes, and he hopes to win her! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Hopes to win her! 
Is the boy mad ? 
COUNTESS. 


Well — hear it from themselves. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland’s daughter! 
Ay? The thought pleases me. 
The young man has no grovelling spirit. 


COUNTESS. 
Since 
Such and such constant favour you have shown him — 


WALLENSTEIN., 


He chooses finally to be my heir. 
And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honour him. 


220 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


But must he therefore be my daughter’s husband ? 
Is it daughters only? Is it only children 
That we must show our favour by ? 


DUCHESS. 
His noble disposition and his manners — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Win him my heart, but not my daughter. 
DUCHESS. 


Then 
His rank, his ancestors — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Ancestors! What ? 
He is a subject, and my son-in-law 
I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe. 


DUCHESS. 


O dearest Albrecht! Climb we not too high 
Lest we should fall too low. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What! have I paid 

A price so heavy to ascend this eminence, 
And jut out high above the common herd, 
Only to close the mighty part I play 
In life’s great drama with a common kinsman ? 
Have I for this— [Stops suddenly, repressing himself. 

She is the only thing 
That will remain behind of me on earth; 
And I will see a crown around her head, 
Or die in the attempt to place it there. 
I hazard all — all! and for this alone, 


ae 


rtd aS 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 233 


To lift her into greatness — 

Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speaking — 
[He recollects himself. 

And I must now, like a soft-hearted father, 

Couple together in good peasant fashion 

The pair that chance to suit each other’s liking — 

And I must do it now, even now, when I 

Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine 

My full accomplished work — no! she is the jewel, 

Which [I have treasured long, my last, my noblest, 

And ’tis my purpose not to let her from me 

For less than a king’s sceptre. 


DUCHESS. 


O my husband ! 
You're ever building, building to the clouds, 
Still building higher, and still higher building, 
And ne'er reflect, that the poor narrow basis 
Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column. 


WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS). 


Have you announced the place of residence 
Which I have destined for her ? 


COUNTESS. 
No! not yet, 
"Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her. 


DUCHESS. 
How? Do we not return to Carinthia then ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
No. 
DUCHESS. 


And to no other of your lands or seats ? 


234 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 


You would not be secure there. 


DUCHESS. 


Not secure 
In the emperor’s realms, beneath the emperor’s 
Protection ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Friedland’s wife may be permitted 
No longer to hope that. 


DUCHESS. 


O God in heaven ! 
And have you brought it even to this! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
In Holland 
You'll find protection. 


DUCHESS. 


In a Lutheran country ? 
What? And you send us into Lutheran countries ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Duke Franz of Lauenburg conducts you thither. 


DUCHESS. 


Duke Franz of Lauenburg ? 
The ally of Sweden, the emperor’s enemy ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The emperor’s enemies are mine no longer. 


f 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 235 


DUCHESS (casting a look of terror on the DUKE and the 
COUNTESS). 


Is it then true? Itis. You are degraded: 
Deposed from the command? O God in heaven. 


COUNTESS (aszde to the DUKE). 


Leave her in this belief. Thou seest she cannot 
Support the real truth. 


SCENE V. 


To them enter CouNT TERZKY. 


COUNTESS. 


Terzky ! 
What ails him? What an image of affright! 
He looks as he had seen a ghost. 


TERZKY (leading WALLENSTEIN aside). 
Is it thy command that all the Croats — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Mine! 
TERZKY. 
We are betrayed. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


What ? 


TERZKY. 


They are off! This night 
The Jagers likewise — all the villages 
In the whole round are empty. 


236 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Tsolani ! 


TERZKY. 
Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


TERZKY. 


No? Hast thou not sent him off? Nor Deodati? 
They are vanished, both of them. 


ScENE VI. 
To them enter ILLo. 


ILLO. 
Has Terzky told thee ? 


TERZKY. 
He knows all. 


ILLO. 
And likewise 
That Esterhazy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz, 
Kolatto, Palfi, have forsaken thee. 


TERZKY. 
Damnation ! 
WALLENSTEIN (winks at them). 
Hush! 


COUNTESS (who has been watching them anxiously from 
the distance and now advances to them). 


Terzky! Heaven! What is it? What has happened ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 237 


WALLENSTEIN (scarcely suppressing his emotions). 
Nothing! let us be gone! 


TERZKY (following him). 
Theresa, it is nothing. 


COUNTESS (holding him back). 


Nothing? Do I not see that all the life-blood 
Has left your cheeks — look you not like a ghost ? 
That even my brother but affects a calmness ? 


PAGE (enters). 


An aide-de-camp inquires for the Count Terzky. 
[TERZKY follows the PAGE. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Go, hear his business. [Zo ILLo. 
This could not have happened 

So unsuspected without mutiny. 

Who was on guard at the gates ? 


4 T110. 
"Twas Tiefenbach. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay, 

And Terzky’s grenadiers relieve him. _—[ILLO 7s going. 
Stop ! 

Hast thou heard aught of Butler ? 


ILLO. 
Him I met: 


238 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


He will be here himself immediately. 
Butler remains unshaken. 
[ILLo exit. WALLENSTEIN 1s following him. 


COUNTESS. 


Let him not leave thee, sister! go, detain him! 
There’s some misfortune. 


DUCHESS (clinging to him). 
Gracious Heaven! What is it ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Be tranquil! leave me, sister! dearest wife ! 
We are in camp, and this is naught unusual ; 
Here storm and sunshine follow one another 
With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits 
Champ the curb angrily, and never yet 
Did quiet bless the temples of the leader ; 
If I am to stay, go you. The plaints of women 
Tl] suit the scene where men must act. 
[He ts going: TERZKY returns. 


TERZKY. 
Remain here. From this window must we see it. 


WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS). 
Sister, retire ! 
COUNTESS. 
No — never! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
’Tis my will. 


at a 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 239 


TERZKY (leads the COUNTESS aside, and drawing her 
attention to the DUCHESS). 
Theresa ! 


DUCHESS. 


Sister, come! since he commands it. 


ScENE VII. 
WALLESTEIN, TERZKY. 


WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the window). 
What now, then ? 
TERZKY. 


There are strange movements among all the troops, 
And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously, 

With gloomy silentness, the several corps 

Marshal themselves, each under its own banners; 
Tiefenbach’s corps make threatening movements; only 
The Pappenheimers still remain aloof 

In their own quarters and let no one enter. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Does Piccolomini appear among them ? 


TERZKY. 


We are seeking him: he is nowhere to be met with. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What did the aide-de-camp deliver to you? 


TERZKY. 


My regiments had despatched him ; yet once more 
They swear fidelity to thee, and wait 
The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager. 


240 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 


But whence arose this larum in the camp ? 
It should have been kept secret from the army 
Till fortune had decided for us at Prague. 


TERZKY. 


Oh, that thou hadst believed me! Yester-evening 
Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, 

That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. 

Thou gavest him thy own horses to flee from thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The old tune still! Now, once for all, no more 
Of this suspicion — it is doting folly. 


TERZKY. 


Thou didst confide in Isolani too; 
And lo! he was the first that did desert thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It was but yesterday I rescued him 

From abject wretchedness. Let that go by; 

I never reckoned yet on gratitude. 

And wherein doth he wrong in going from me ? 
He follows still the god whom all his life 

He has worshipped at the gaming-table. With 
My fortune and my seeming destiny 

He made the bond and broke it, not with me. 

IT am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed 
And with the which, well-pleased and confident, 
He traversed the open sea; now he beholds it 
In eminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks, 
And hurries to preserve his wares. As light 
As the free bird from the hospitable twig 
Where it had nested he flies off from me: 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 241 


No human tie is snapped betwixt us two. 

Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived 

Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. 

Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life 
Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, 
Naught sinks into the bosom’s silent death: 
Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure 

Moves the light fluids lightly ; but no soul 
Warmeth the inner frame. | 


TERZKY. 


Yet, would I rather 
Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrowed one. 


ScENE VIII. 
WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLO. 


ILLO (who enters agitated with rage). 


Treason and mutiny! 
TERZKY. 


And what further now ? 


ILLO. 


Tiefenbach’s soldiers, when I gave the orders 
To go off guard — mutinous villains! 


TERZKY. 
Well! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What followed ? 


ILLO. 
They refused obedience to them. 


242 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


TERZKY. 
Fire on them instantly! Give out the order. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Gently ! what cause did they assign ? 


ILLO. 
No other, 
They said, had right to issue orders but 
Lieutenant-General Piccolomini. 


WALLENSTEIN (in a convulsion of agony). 
What? How is that ? 
ILLO. 


He takes that office on him by commission, 
Under sign-manual from the emperor. 


TERZKY. 
From the emperor — hearest thou, duke ? 


ILLO. 
At his incitement 
The generals made that stealthy flight — 


TERZKY. 
Duke, hearest thou ? 


ILLO. 


Caraffa too, and Montecuculi, 

Are missing, with six other generals, 

All whom he had induced to follow him. 

This plot he has long had in writing by him 
From the emperor; but ’twas finally concluded, 


Se ee el a 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 243 


With all the detail of the operation, 
Some days ago with the Envoy Questenberg. 
[WALLENSTEIN sinks down into a chair and covers 
his face. 
TERZKY. 


Oh, hadst thou but believed me! 


SCENE TX: 
To them enter the COUNTESS. 


COUNTESS. 
This suspense, 


This horrid fear —I can no longer bear it. 
For heaven’s sake tell me what has taken place ? 


ILLO. 


The regiments are falling off from us. 


TERZKY. 


Octavio Piccolomini is a traitor. 


COUNTESS. 
O my foreboding! [ Rushes out of the room. 


TERZKY. 


Hadst thou but believed me! 
Now seest thou how the stars have lied to thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The stars lie not; but we have here a work 
Wrought counter to the stars and destiny. 
The science is still honest: this false heart 


244 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven. _ 

On a divine law divination rests ; 

Where nature deviates from that law, and stumbles 
Out of her limits, there all science errs. 

True I did not suspect! Were it superstition 
Never by such suspicion to have affronted 

The human form, oh, may the time ne’er come 

In which I shame me of the infirmity. 

The wildest savage drinks not with the victim 
Into whose bréast he means to plunge the sword, 
This, this, Octavio, was no hero’s deed : 

*Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine ; 

A. bad heart triumphed o’er an honest one. 

No shield received the assassin stroke; thou plungest 
Thy weapon on an unprotected breast — 

Against such weapons I am but a child. 


SCENE X. 
To these enter BUTLER. 


TERZKY (meeting him). 
Oh, look there, Butler! Here we've still a friend ! 


WALLENSTEIN (meets him with outspread arms and em- 
braces him with warmth). 


Come to my heart, old comrade! Not the sun 
Looks out upon us more revivingly, 

In the earliest month of spring, 

Than a friend’s countenance in such an hour. 


BUTLER. 
My general; I come — 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 245 


WALLENSTEIN (leaning on BUTLER’S shoulder). 


Knowest thou already 
That old man has betrayed me to the emperor. 
What sayest thou? Thirty years have we together 
Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hardship. 
We have slept in one camp-bed, drank from one glass, 
One morsel shared! I leaned myself on him, 
As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder, 
And now in the very moment when, all love, 
All confidence, my bosom beat to his 
He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife 
Slowly into my heart. 

[He hides his face on BUTLER’S breast. 


BUTLER. 


Forget the false one. 
What is your present purpose ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Well remembered ! 
Courage, my soul! Iam still rich in friends, 
Still loved by destiny ; for in the moment 
That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite 
It sends and proves to me one faithful heart. 
Of the hypocrite no more! Think not his loss 
Was that which struck the pang: Oh, no! his treason 
Is that which strikes the pang! No more of him! 
Dear to my heart, and honoured were they both, 
And the young man — yes — he did truly love me, 
He — he — has not deceived me. But enough, 
Enough of this — swift counsel now beseems us. 
The courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from Prague, 
I expect him every moment: and whatever 
He may bring with him we must take good care 
To keep it from the mutineers. Quick then! 


246 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Despatch some messenger you can rely on 
To meet him, and conduct him to me. 
[ILLO ts going. 
BUTLER (detaining him). 
My general, whom expect you then ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
The courier 
Who brings me word of the event at Prague. 


BUTLER (hesitating). 
Hem ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And what now ? 
BUTLER. 
You do not know it ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Well 2 
BUTLER. 


From what that larum in the camp arose ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
From what ? 


BUTLER. 
That courier — 


WALLENSTEIN (with eager expectation). 
Well ? 


BUTLER. 
Is already here. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


TERZKY and ILLO (at the same tome). 


Already here ? 
WALLENSTEIN. 
My courier ? 


BUTLER. 


For some hours. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And I not know it ? 
BUTLER. 


The sentinels detain him 
In custody. 
ILLO (stamping with his foot). 


Damnation ! 


BUTLER. 


And his letter 
Was broken open, and is circulated 
Through the whole camp. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


247 


You know what it contains ? 


BUTLER. 
Question me not! 
TERZKY. 


Tilo! alas for us. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Hide nothing from me —I can bear the worst. 
Prague then is lost. It is. Confess it freely. 


248 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 


Yes! Prague is lost. And all the several regiments 
At Budweiss, Tabor, Braunau, K6nigingratz, 
At Brunn, and Znaym, have forsaken you, 
And taken the oaths of fealty anew 
To the emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Terzky, 
And Illo have been sentenced. 
[TERzKY and ILLO express alarm and fury. WaAtL- 
LENSTEIN remains firm and collected. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


"Tis decided ! 

"Tis well! I have received a sudden cure 
From all the pangs of doubt: with steady stream 
Once more my life-blood flows! My soul’s secure! 
In the night only Friedland stars can beam. 
Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears 
I drew the sword — ’twas with an inward strife, 
While yet the choice was mine. The murderous knife 
Is lifted for my heart! Doubt disappears! 
I fight now for my head and for my life. 

[ Lait WALLENSTEIN ; the others follow him. 


ScENE XI. 


COUNTESS TERZKY (enters from a side room). 


I can endure no longer. No! [Looks around her. 
Where are they ! 

No one is here. They leave me all alone, 

Alone in this sore anguish of suspense. 

And I must wear the outward show of calmness 

Before my sister, and shut in within me 

The pangs and agonies of my crowded bosom. 

It is not to be borne. If all should fail ; 

If —if he must go over to the Swedes, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 249 


An empty-handed fugitive, and not 

As an ally, a covenanted equal, 

A proud commander with his army following, 
If we must wander on from land to land, 
Like the Count Palatine, of fallen greatness 
An ignominious monument. But no! 

That day I will not see! And could himself 
Endure to sink so low, I would not bear 

To see him so low sunken. 


ScENE XIT. 
CountTEss, DucHESS, THEKLA. 


THEKLA (endeavouring to hold back the DUCHESS). 
Dear mother, do stay here! 


DUCHESS. 


No! Here is yet 
Some frightful mystery that is hidden from me. 
Why does my sister shun me? Don’t I see her 
Full of suspense and anguish roam about 
From room to room? Art thou not full of terror ? 
And what import these silent nods and gestures 
Which stealthwise thou exchangest with her ? 


THEKLA. 
Nothing : 
Nothing, dear mother ! 


DUCHESS (to the COUNTESS). 
Sister, I will know. 


250 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 


What boots it now to hide it from her? Sooner 
Or later she must learn to hear and bear it. 

‘Tis not the time now to indulge infirmity ; 
Courage beseems us now, a heart collect, 

And exercise and previous discipline 

Of fortitude. One word, and over with it! 
Sister, you are deluded. You believe 

The duke has been deposed — the duke is not 
Deposed — he is — 


THEKLA (going to the COUNTESS). 
What ? do you wish to kill her ? 


COUNTESS. 
The duke is — 


THEKLA (throwing her arms around her mother). 
Oh, stand firm! stand firm, my mother! 


COUNTESS. 


Revolted is the duke; he is preparing 
To join the enemy ; the army leave him, 
And all has failed. 


ScENE XIII. 
A spacious room in the Duke of Friedland’s Palace. 


WALLENSTEIN (in armour). 


Thou hast gained thy point, Octavio! Once more am I 
Almost as friendless as at Regensburg. 
There I had nothing left me but myself; 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 251 


But what one man can do you have now experience. 
The twigs have you hewed off, and here I stand 
A leafless trunk. But in the sap within 
Lives the creating power, and a new world 
May sprout forth from it. Once already have I 
Proved myself worth an army to you —I alone! 
Before the Swedish strength your troops had melted ; 
Beside the Lech sank Tilly, your last hope; 
Into Bavaria, like a winter torrent, 
Did that Gustavus pour, and at Vienna 
In his own palace did the emperor tremble. 
Soldiers were scarce, for still the multitude 
Follow the luck: all eyes were turned on me, 
Their helper in distress ; the emperor’s pride 
Bowed itself down before the man he had injured. 
’T was I must rise, and with creative word 
Assemble forces in the desolate camps. 
I did it. Like a god of war my name 
Went through the world. The drum was beat; and, 
lo! 
The plough, the workshop is forsaken, all 
Swarm to the old familiar long-loved banners ; 
And as the wood-choir rich in melody 
Assemble quick around the bird of wonder, 
When first his throat swells with his magic song, 
So did the warlike youth of Germany 
Crowd in around the image of my eagle. 
I feel myself the being that I was. 
It is the soul that builds itself a body, 
And Friedland’s camp will not remain unfilled. 
Lead then your thousands out to meet me — true! 
They are accustomed under me to conquer, 
But not against me. If the head and limbs 
Separate from each other, twill be soon 
Made manifest in which the soul abode. 
[ILLo and TERZKY enter. 
Courage, friends! courage! we are still unvanquished ; 


252 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


I feel my footing firm ; five regiments, Terzky, 

Are still our own, and Butler’s gallant troops; 

And an host of sixteen thousand Swedes to-morrow. 
I was not stronger when, nine years ago, 

I marched forth, with glad heart and high of hope, 
To conquer Germany for the emperor. 


SCENE XIV. 
WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, TERZKY. 


(To them enter NEUMANN, who leads TERZKY aside, and 
talks with him.) 


TERZKY. 
What do they want ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What now ? 


TERZKY. 


Ten cuirassiers 
From Pappenheim request leave to address you 
In the name of the regiment. 


WALLENSTEIN (hastily to NEUMANN). 


Let them enter. 
[Lait NEUMANN. 
This 
May end in something. Mark you. They are still 
Doubtful, and may be won. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 253 


ScENE XV. 


WALLENSTEIN, TERZKY, ILLo, ten CUIRASSIERS (led by 
an ANSPESSADE,! march up and arrange them- 
selves, after the word of command, in one front be- 
Jore the DUKE, and make their obeisance. He takes 
his hat off, and ummediately covers himself again). 


ANSPESSADE. 
Halt! Front! Present! 


WALLENSTEIN (after he has run through them with his 
eye, to the ANSPESSADE). 


I know thee well. Thou art out of Bruggen in Flanders: 
Thy name is Mercy. 


ANSPESSADE. 
Henry Mercy. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou wert cut off on the march, surrounded by the 
Hessians, and didst fight thy way with an hundred and 
eighty men through their thousand. 


ANSPESSADE. 
"Twas even so, general ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What reward hadst thou for this gallant exploit ? 


1 Anspessade, in German, Gefreiter, a soldier inferior to a cor- 
poral, but above the sentinels. The German name implies that 
he is exempt from mounting guard. 


254 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ANSPESSADE. 


That which I asked for: the honour to serve in this 
COrps. 


WALLENSTEIN (turning to a second). 


Thou wert among the volunteers that seized and 
made booty of the Swedish battery at Altenburg. 


~~ 


SECOND CUIRASSIER. 
Yes, general 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I forget no one with whom I have exchanged words. 
(A pause.) Who sends you? 


ANSPESSADE. 


Your noble regiment, the cuirassiers of Piccolomini. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Why does not your colonel deliver in your request 
according to the custom of service ? 


ANSPESSADE. 
Because we would first know whom we serve. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Begin your address. 


ANSPESSADE (giving the word of command). 
Shoulder your arms! 


WALLENSTEIN (turning to a third). 
Thy name is Risbeck ; Cologne is thy birthplace. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 255 


THIRD CUIRASSIER. 
Risbeck of Cologne. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


It was thou that broughtest in the Swedish colonel 
Dubald, prisoner, in the camp at Nuremberg. 


THIRD CUIRASSIER. 
It was not I, general. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Perfectly right! It was thy elder brother: thou 
hadst a younger brother, too: where did he stay ? 


THIRD CUIRASSIER. 
He is stationed at Olmutz, with the imperial army. 


WALLENSTEIN (to the ANSPESSADE). 
Now then — begin. f 


ANSPESSADE. 


There came to hand a letter from the emperor 
Commanding us — 


WALLENSTEIN (interrupting him). 
Who chose you ? 


ANSPESSADE. 


Every company 
Drew its own man by lot. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Now! to the business. 


256 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ANSPESSADE. 


There came to hand a letter from the emperor 
Commanding us, collectively, from thee 

All duties of obedience to withdraw, 

Because thou wert an enemy and traitor. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And what did you determine ? 


ANSPESSADE. 


All our comrades 
At Braunau, Budweiss, Prague, and Olmutz, have 
Obeyed already ; and the regiments here, 
Tiefenbach and Toscano, instantly 
Did follow their example. But — but we 
Do not believe that thou art an enemy 
And traitor to thy country, hold it merely 
For lie and trick, and a trumped-up Spanish story ! 
[Wath warmth. 
Thyself shall tell us what thy purpose is, 
For we have found thee still sincere and true: 
No mouth shall interpose itself betwixt 
The gallant general and the gallant troops. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Therein I recognise my Pappenheimers. 


ANSPESSADE. 


And this proposal makes thy regiment to thee: 
Is it thy purpose merely to preserve 

In thine own hands this military sceptre, 
Which so becomes thee, which the emperor 
Made over to thee by a covenant ? 

Is it thy purpose merely to remain 

Supreme commander of the Austrian armies ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 257 


We will stand by thee, general! and guarantee 
Thy honest rights against all opposition. 

And should it chance that all the other regiments 
Turn from thee, by ourselves we will stand forth 
Thy faithful soldiers, and, as is our duty, 

Far rather let ourselves be cut to pieces 

Than suffer thee to fall. But if it be 

As the emperor’s letter says, if it be true, 

That thou in traitorous wise wilt lead us over 
To the enemy, which God in heaven forbid ! 
Then we too will forsake thee, and obey 

That letter — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Hear me, children! 


ANSPESSADE. 


Yes, or no. 
There needs no other answer. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yield attention. 
You're men of sense, examine for yourselves ; 
Ye think, and do not follow with the herd: 
And therefore have I always shown you honour 
Above all others, suffered you to reason ; 
Have treated you as free men, and my orders 
Were but the echoes of your prior suffrage. 


ANSPESSADE. 


Most fair and noble has thy conduct been 

To us, my general! With thy confidence 

Thou hast honoured us, and shown us grace and favour 
Beyond all other regiments; and thou seest 

We follow not the common herd. We will 

Stand by thee faithfully. Speak but one word — 


258 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Thy word shall satisfy us that it is not 

A treason which thou meditatest — that 
Thou meanest not to lead the army over 
To the enemy ; nor e’er betray thy country. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Me, me are they betraying. The emperor 

Hath sacrificed me to my enemies, © 

And I must fall, unless my gallant troops 

Will rescue me. See! I confide in you. 

And be your hearts my stronghold! At this breast 
The aim is taken, at this hoary head. 

This is your Spanish gratitude, this is our 
Requital for that murderous fight at Liitzen! 

For this we threw the naked breast against 

The halbert, made for this the frozen earth 

Our bed, and the hard stone our pillow! never stream 
Too rapid for us, nor wood too impervious ; 

With cheerful spirit we pursued that Mansfeldt 
Through all the turns and windings of his flight: 
Yea, our whole life was but one restless march: 
And homeless, as the stirring wind, we travelled 
O’er the war-wasted earth. And now, even now, 
That we have well-nigh finished the hard toil, 

The unthankful, the curse-laden toil of weapons, 
With faithful indefatigable arm 

Have rolled the heavy war-load up the hill, 
Behold ! this boy of the emperor’s bears away 

The honours of the peace, an easy prize! 

He'll weave, forsooth, into his flaxen locks 

The olive-branch, the hard-earned ornament 

Of this gray head, grown gray beneath the helmet. 


ANSPESSADE. 


That shall he not, while we can hinder it! 
No one, but thou, who hast conducted it 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 259 


With fame, shall end this war, this frightful war. 

Thou leadest us out to the bloody field 

Of death; thou and no other shalt conduct us 
home, 

Rejoicing, to the lovely plains of peace — 

Shalt share with us the fruits of the long toil. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What! Think you then at length in late old age 

To enjoy the fruits of toil? Believe it not. 

Never, no never, will you see the end 

Of the contest! you and me, and all of'us, 

This war will swallow up! War, war, not peace, 

Is Austria’s wish; and therefore, because I 

Endeavoured after peace, therefore I fall. 

For what cares Austria how long the war 

Wears out the armies and lays waste the world! 

She will but wax and grow amid the ruin 

And still win new domains. 

[ Zhe CUIRASSIERS express agitation by their gestures. 

Ye’re moved — I see 

A noble rage flash from your eyes, ye warriors ! 

Oh, that my spirit might possess you now 

Daring as once it led you to the battle! 

Ye would stand by me with your veteran arms, 

Protect me in my rights; and this is noble! 

But think not that you can accomplish it. 

Your scanty number! to no purpose will you 

Have sacrificed you for your general. [Confidentially. 

No! let us tread securely, seek for friends ; 

The Swedes have proffered us assistance, let us 

Wear for a while the appearance of good-will, 

And use them for your profit, till we both 

Carry the fate of Europe in our hands, 

And from our camp to the glad jubilant world 

Lead peace forth with the garland on her head! 


260 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ANSPESSADE., 


’Tis then but mere appearances which thou 

Dost put on with the Swede! Thou’lt not betray 
The emperor? Wilt not turn us into Swedes? 
This is the only thing which we desire 

To learn from thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What care I for the Swedes ? 
I hate them as I hate the pit of hell, 
And under Providence I trust right soon 
To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. 
My cares are only for the whole: I have 
A heart — it bleeds within me for the miseries 
And piteous groanings of my fellow Germans. 
Ye are but common men, but yet ye think 
With minds not common; ye appear to me 
Worthy before all others, that I whisper thee 
A little word or two in confidence ! 
See now! already for full fifteen years, 
The war-torch has continued burning, yet 
No rest, no pause of conflict. Swede and German, 
Papist and Lutheran! neither will give way 
To the other; every hand’s against the other. 
Each one is party and no one a judge. 
Where shall this end? Where’s he that will unravel 
This tangle, ever tangling more and more ? 
It must be cut asunder. 
I feel that I am the man of destiny, 
And trust, with your assistance, to accomplish it. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 261 


ScENE XVI. 
To these enter BUTLER. 


BUTLER (passionately). 
General! this is not right! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What is not right ? 


BUTLER. 
It must needs injure us with all honest men. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
But what ? 
BUTLER. 


It is an open proclamation 
Of insurrection. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


Well, well — but what is it ? 


BUTLER. 


Count Terzky’s regiments tear the imperial eagle 
From off his banners, and instead of it 
Have reared aloft their arms. 


ANSPESSADE (abruptly to the CUIRASSIERS). 
Right about! March! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Cursed be this counsel, and accursed who gave it! 
[Zo the CUIRASSIERS, who are retiring. 
Halt, children, halt! There’s some mistake in this; 


262 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Hark! I will punish it severely. Stop! 
They do not hear. (Zo Ituo.) Go after them, assure 
them, 
And bring them back to me, cost what it may. 
[ILLo hurries out. 
This hurls us headlong. Butler! Butler! 
You are my evil genius, wherefore must you 
Announce it in their presence? It was all 
Ina fair way. They were half won! those madmen 
With their improvident over-readiness — 
A. cruel game is Fortune playing with me. 
The zeal of friends it is that razes me, 
And not the hate of enemies. 


ScENE XVII. 


To these enter the DUCHESS, who rushes into the chamber ; 
THEKLA and the COUNTESS follow her. 


DUCHESS. 


O Albrecht ! 
What hast thou done ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And now comes this beside. 


COUNTESS. 


Forgive me, brother! It was not in my power — 
They know all. 
DUCHESS. 


What hast thou done ? 


COUNTESS (to TERZKY). 
Is there no hope? Is all lost utterly ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 263 


TERZKY. 


All lost. No hope. Prague in the emperor’s hands, 
The soldiery have taken their oaths anew. 


COUNTESS. 


That lurking hypocrite, Octavio! 
Count Max. is off too. 


TERZKY. 


Where can he be? He’s 
Gone over to the emperor with his father. 
[THEKLA rushes out into the arms of her mother, 
hiding her face in her bosom. 


DUCHESS (enfolding her in her arms). 
Unhappy child! and more unhappy mother! 


WALLENSTEIN (aside to TERZKY). 


Quick! Let a carriage stand in readiness 
In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg, 
Be their attendant; he is faithful to us. 
To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow. 
[ Zo ILLo, who returns. 
Thou hast not brought them back ? 


ILLO. 


Hear’st thou the uproar ? 
The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is 
Drawn out: the younger Piccolomini, 
Their colonel, they require: for they affirm, 
That he is in the palace here, a prisoner ; 
And if thou dost not instantly deliver him, 
They will find.eans to free him with the sword. 

[All stand amazed. 


264 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


TERZKY. 
What shall we make of this? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Said I not so ? 
O my prophetic heart! he is still here. 
He has not betrayed me — he could not betray me. 
I never doubted of it. 
COUNTESS. 


If he be 
Still here, then all goes well; for I know what 
[Embracing THEKLA. 
Will keep him here for ever. 


TERZKY. 


It can’t be. 
His father has betrayed us, is gone over 
To the emperor — the son could not have ventured 
To stay behind. 


THEKLA (her eye fixed on the door). 
There he is! 


ScENE XVIII. 
To these enter MAx. PICCOLOMINI. 


MAX. 


Yes, here he is! I can endure no longer 
To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk 
In ambush for a favourable moment: 
This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers. 
[Advancing to THEKLA, who has thrown herself 
into her mother’s arms. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 265 


Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me! 
Confess it freely before all. ear no one. 
Let who will hear that we both love each other. 
Wherefore continue to conceal it? Secrecy 
Is for the happy — misery, hopeless misery, 
Needeth no veil! Beneath a thousand suns 
It dares act openly. 
[He observes the COUNTESS looking on THEKLA with 
expressions of triumph. 
No, lady! No! 
Expect not, hope it not. Iam not come 
To stay: to bid farewell, farewell for ever. 
For this I come! ’Tis over! I must leave thee! 
Thekla, I must — must leave thee! Yet thy hatred 
Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me 
One look of sympathy, only one look. 
Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla! 
[Grasps her hand. 
O God! I cannot leave this spot — I cannot! 
Cannot let go this hand. O, tell me, Thekla! 
That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced 
That I cannot act otherwise. 
[THEKLA, avoiding his look, points with her hand 
to her father. Max. turns around to the 
DvuKE, whom he had not tul then perceived. 
Thou here? It was not thou whom here I sought. 
I trusted never more to have beheld thee; 
My business is with her alone. Here will I 
Receive a full acquittal from this heart ; 
For any other I am no more concerned. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Think’st thou that, fool-like, I shall let thee go, 
And act the mock-magnanimous with thee ? 
Thy father is become a villain to me; 

I hold thee for his son, and nothing more: 

Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given 


266 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Into my power. Think not, that I will honour 
That ancient love, which so remorselessly 

He mangled. They are now passed by, those hours 
Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and vengeance 
Succeed — ’tis now their turn — I too can throw 
All feelings of the man aside — can prove 

Myself as much a monster as thy father ! 


MAX (calmly). 


Thou wilt proceed with me as thou hast power. 

Thou knowest I neither brave nor fear thy rage. 

What has detained me here, that too thou knowest. 
[ Taking THEKLA by the hand. 

See, duke! All —all would I have owed to thee, 

Would have received from thy paternal hand 

The lot of blessed spirits. This hast thou 

Laid waste for ever — that concerns not thee. 

Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust 

Their happiness who most are thine. The God 

Whom thou dost serve is no benignant deity. 

Like as the blind, irreconcilable, 

Fierce element, incapable of compact, 

Thy heart’s wild impulse only dost thou follow. 


1] have here ventured to omit a considerable number of lines. 
I fear that I should not have done amiss had I taken this liberty 
more frequently. It is, however, incumbent on me to give the 
original, with a literal translation. 


‘‘Weh denen, die auf Dich vertraun, an Dich 
Die sichre Hiitte ihres Gliickes lehnen, 
Gelockt von deiner geistlichen Gestalt. 
Schnell unverhofft, bei nachtlich stiller Weile 
Gahrts in dem tiickschen Feuerschlunde, ladet 
Sich aus mit tobender Gewalt, und weg 
Treibt tiber alle Pflanzungen der Menschen 
Der wilde Strom in grausender Zerstorung. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


‘*Du schilderst deines Vaters Herz. Wie Du’s 
Beschreibst, so ist’s in seinem Eingeweide, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 267 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou art describing thy own father’s heart. 
The adder! Oh, the charms of hell o’erpowered me! 
He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul 

Still to and fro he passed, suspected never. 

On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven 

Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I 

In my heart’s heart had folded! Had I been 
To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me, 

War had I ne’er denounced against him. No, 
I never could have done it. The emperor was 
My austere master only, not my friend. 


In dieser schwarzen Heuchlers Brust gestaltet. 
Oh, mich hat Hollenkunst getéuscht! Mir sandte 
Der Abgrund den verfiecktesten der Geister, 
Den Liigenkundigsten herauf, und stellt’ ihn 
Als Freund an meiner Seite. Wer vermag 
Der Holle Macht zu widerstehn ! Ich zog 

Den Basilisken auf an meinem Busen, 

Mit meinem Herzblut nahrt ich ihn, er sog 
Sich schwelgend voll an meiner Liebe Briisten, 
Ich hatte nimmer Ares gegen ihn, 

Weit offen liess ich des Gedankens Thore, 
Und warf die Schliissel weiser Vorsicht weg, 
Am Sternenhimmel,”’’ etc. 


LITERAL TRANSLATION. 


‘¢ Alas! for those who place their confidence on thee, against 
thee lean the secure hut of their fortune, allured by thy hospita- 
ble form. Suddenly, unexpectedly, in a moment still as night, 
there is a fermentation in the treacherous gulf of fire; it dis- 
charges itself with raging force, and away over all the plantations 
of men drives the wild stream in frightful devastation. WatLiEen- 
STEIN. Thou art portraying thy father’s heart ; as thou describest, 
even so is it shaped in his entrails, in this black hypocrite’s breast. 
Oh, the art of hell has deceived me! The abyss sent up to me 
the most spotted of the spirits, the most skilful in lies, and placed 
him as a friend by my side. Who may withstand the power of 
hell? I took the basilisk to my bosom, with my heart’s blood 
I nourished him ; he sucked himself glutfull at the breasts of my 
love. I never harboured evil toward him ; wide open did I leave 
the door of my thoughts; I threw away the key of wise foresight. 
In the starry heaven,’’ etc. We find a difficulty in believing this 
to have been written by Schiller. 


268 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


There was already war ’twixt him and me 
When he delivered the commander’s staff 

Into my hands; for there’s a natural 

Unceasing war ’twixt cunning and suspicion ; 
Peace exists only betwixt confidence 

And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders 
The future generations. 


MAX. 


I will not 
Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot! 
Hard deeds and luckless have taken place ; one crime 
Drags after it the other in close link. 
But we are innocent: how have we fallen 
Into this circle of mishap and guilt ? 
To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must 
The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal 
Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us ? 
Why must our fathers’ 
Unconquerable hate rend us asunder, 
Who love each other ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Max., remain with me. 
Go you not from me, Max.! Hark! I will tell thee — 
How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou 
Wert brought into my tent a tender boy, 
Not yet accustomed to the German winters ; 
Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colours ; 
Thou wouldst not let them go. 
At that time did I take thee in my arms, 
And with my mantle did I cover thee; 
I was thy nurse, no woman could have been 
A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed 
To do for thee all little offices, 
However strange to me; I tended thee 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 269 


Till life returned ; and when thine eyes first opened, 

I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have 

Altered my feelings toward thee? Many thousands 

Have I made rich, presented them with lands; 

Rewarded them with dignities and honours ; 

Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave 

To thee; they all were aliens: thou wert 

Our child and inmate! Max.! Thou canst not leave 
me ; 

It cannot be; I may not, will not think 

That Max. can leave me. 


MAX. 
Oh, my God! 


WALLENSTEIN. 

I have 
Held and sustained thee from thy tottering childhood. 
What holy bond is there of natural love, 
What human tie that does not knit thee to me? 
I love thee, Max.! What did thy father for thee, 
Which I too have not done, to the height of duty ? 
Go hence, forsake me, serve thy emperor ; 
He will reward thee with a pretty chain 
Of gold; with his ram’s fleece will he reward thee ; 
For that the friend, the father of thy youth, 
For that the holiest feeling of humanity, 
Was nothing worth to thee. 


1This a poor and inadequate translation of the affectionate 
simplicity of the original, — 


‘¢ Sie alle waren Fremdlinge, Du warst 
Das Kind des Hauses.’’ 


Indeed the whole speech is in the best style of Massinger. O 
si sic omnia ! 


270 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


MAX. 


O God! how can I 
Do otherwise. Am I not forced to do it, 
My oath — my duty — my honour — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


How? Thy duty? 
Duty to whom? Who art thou? Max.! bethink thee 
What duties may’st thou have? If I am acting 
A criminal part toward the emperor, 
It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong 
To thine own self? Art thou thine own commander ? 
Stand’st thou, ike me, a freeman in the world, 
That m thy actions thou shouldst plead free agency ? 
On me thou art planted, I am thy emperor ; 
To obey me, to belong to me, this is 
Thy honour, this a law of nature to thee! 
And if the planet on the which thou livest 
And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts, 
It is not in thy choice, whether or no 
Thou 'lt follow it. Unfelt it whirls thee onward 
Together with his ring, and all his moons. 
With little guilt steppest thou into this contest ; 
Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee, 
For that thou held’st thy friend more worth to thee 
Than names and influences more removed ; 
For justice is the virtue of the ruler, 
Affection and fidelity the subject’s. 
Not every one doth it beseem to question 
The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely 
Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty: let 
The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 271 


ScENE XIX. 
To these enter NEUMANN. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What now ? 


NEUMANN. 


The Pappenheimers are dismounted, 
And are advancing now on foot, determined 
With sword in hand to storm the house, and free 
The count, their colonel. 


WALLENSTEIN (to TERZKY). 


Have the cannon planted. 
I will receive them with chain-shot. [Hatt TERZRKY. 
Prescribe to me with sword in hand! Go, Neumann! 
‘Tis my command that they retreat this moment, 
And in their ranks in silence wait my pleasure. 
[ NEUMANN exit. ILLO steps to the window. 


COUNTESS. 
Let him go, I entreat thee, let him go. 


ILLO (at the window). 
Hell and perdition ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What is it ? 


ILLO. 


They scale the council-house, the roof’s uncovered, 
They level at this house the cannon — 


272 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 
MAX. 
Madmen. 
ILLO. 


They are making preparations now to fire on us. 


DUCHESS and COUNTESS. 


Merciful heaven! 


MAX. (to WALLENSTEIN). 
Let me go to them! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Not a step! 


MAX. ( pointing to THEKLA and the DUCHESS). 
But their life! Thine! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What tidings bringest thou, Terzky ? 


SCENE XX. 
To these TERZKY returning. 


TERZKY. 


Message and greeting from our faithful regiments. 
Their ardour may no longer be curbed in. 

They entreat permission to commence the attack ; 
And if thou wouldst but give the word of onset 
They could now charge the enemy in rear, 

Into the city wedge them, and with ease 
O’erpower them in the narrow streets. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 273 


ILLO. 
Oh, come, 
Let not their ardour cool. The soldiery 
Of Butler’s corps stand by us faithfully ; 
We are the greater number. Let us charge them 
And finish here in Pilsen the revolt. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


What? shall this town become a field of slaughter, 

And brother-killing discord, fire-eyed, 

Be let loose through its streets to roam and rage ? 

Shall the decision be delivered over 

To deaf remorseless rage, that hears no leader ? 

Here is not room for battle, only for butchery. 

Well, let it be! I have long thought of it, 

So let it burst then! [Zurns to Max. 
Well, how is it with thee? 

Wilt thou attempt a heat with me? Away! 

Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me, 

Front against front, and lead them to the battle ; 

Thou’rt skilled in war, thou hast learned somewhat 

under me, 

I need not be ashamed of my opponent, 

And never hadst thou fairer opportunity 

To pay me for thy schooling. 


COUNTESS. 


. Is it then, 
Can it have come to this? What! Cousin, cousin! 
Have you the heart ? 

MAX. 


The regiments that are trusted to my care 

I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilsen 
True to the emperor; and this promise will I 
Make good, or perish. More than this no duty 
Requires of me. I will not fight against thee, 


274 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Unless compelled ; for though an enemy, 
Thy head is holy to me still. 
[Two reports of cannon. ILLO and TERZKY hurry 
to the window. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What’s that ? 
TERZKY. 
He falls. 
WALLENSTEIN. 
Falls! Who? 
ILLO. 


Tiefenbach’s corps 
Discharged the ordnance. 
WALLENSTEIN. 
Upon whom ? 


ILLO. 
On Neumann, 
Your messenger. 
WALLENSTEIN (starting up). 


Ha! Death and hell! I will — 


TERZKY. 
Expose thyself to their blind frenzy ? 


DUCHESS and COUNTESS. 
No! 
For God’s sake, no! 
ILLO. 
Not yet, my general ! 
Oh, hold him! hold him! 


td 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 275 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Leave me — 


MAX. 
Do it not; 
Not yet! This rash and bloody deed has thrown them 
Into a frenzy-fit — allow them time — 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Away! too long already have I loitered. 
They are emboldened to these outrages, 
Beholding not my face. They shall behold 
My countenance, shall hear my voice — 
Are they not my troops? Am I not their general, 
And their long-feared commander! Let me see, 
Whether indeed they do no longer know 
That countenance which was their sun in battle! 
From the balcony (mark!) I show myself 
To these rebellious forces, and at once 
Revolt is mounded, and the high-swollen current 
Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience. 

[ait WALLENSTEIN ; ILLO, TERZKY, and BUTLER 

Jollow. 


SCENE XXI. 
CountTEss, DucnuEss, Max, and THEKLA. 
COUNTESS (to the DUCHESS). 


Let them but see him — there is hope still, sister. 


DUCHESS. 
Hope! I have none! 


276 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Max. (who during the last scene has been standing at a 
distance, in a visible struggle of feelings, advances). 


This can I not endure. 
With most determined soul did I come hither ; 
My purposed action seemed unblamable 
To my own conscience — and I must stand here. 
Like one abhorred, a hard, inhuman being: 
Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love! 
Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish, 
Whom I with one word can make happy — O! 
My heart revolts within me, and two voices 
Make themselves audible within my bosom. 
My soul’s benighted; I no longer can 
Distinguish the right track. Oh, well and truly 
Didst thou say, father, I relied too much 
On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro— 
I know not what to do. 


COUNTESS. 


What! you know not ? 
Does not your own heart tell you? Oh! then I 
Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor, 
A frightful traitor to us — he has plotted 
Against our general’s life, has plunged us all 
In misery —and you're his son! ’Tis yours 
To make the amends. Make you the son’s fidelity 
Outweigh the father’s treason, that the name 
Of Piccolomini be not a proverb 
Of infamy, a common form of cursing 
To the posterity of Wallenstein. 


MAX. 


Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow! 
It speaks no longer in my heart. We all 

But utter what our passionate wishes dictate: 

Oh, that an angel would descend from heaven, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 277 


And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted, 
With a pure hand from the pure Fount of light. 
[His eyes glance on THEKLA. 
What other angel seek I? To this heart, 
To this unerring heart, will I submit it ; 
Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless 
The happy man alone, averted ever 
From the disquieted and guilty — canst thou 
Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst, 
And I am the duke’s — 


COUNTESS. 
Think, niece — 


MAX. 
Think nothing, Thekla! 
Speak what thou feelest. 


COUNTESS. 
Think upon your father. 


MAX. 


I did not question thee, as Friedland’s daughter. 
Thee, the beloved and the unerring God 

Within thy heart, I question. What’s at stake ? 
Not whether diadem of royalty 

Be to be won or not — that mightest thou think on. 
Thy friend, and his soul’s quiet are at stake: 
The fortune of a thousand gallant men, 

Who will all follow me; shall I forswear 

My oath and duty to the emperor ? 

Say, shall I send into Octavio’s camp 

The parricidal ball? For when the ball 

Has left its cannon, and is on its flight, 

It is no longer a dead instrument! 

It lives, a spirit passes into it; 


278 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


The avenging furies seize possession of it, 
And with sure malice guide it the worst way. 


THEKLA. 
Oh! Max. — 
MAX. (enterrupting her). 


Nay, not precipitately either, Thekla. 
I understand thee. To thy noble heart 
The hardest duty might appear the highest. 
The human, not the great part, would I act. 
Even from my childhood to this present hour, 
Think what the duke has done for me, how loved me, 
And think, too, how my father has repaid him. 
Oh, likewise the free lovely impulses 
Of hospitality, the pious friend’s 
Faithful attachment, these, too, are a holy 
Religion to the heart; and heavily 
The shudderings of nature do avenge 
Themselves on the barbarian that insults them. 
Lay all upon the balance, all— then speak, 
And let thy heart decide it. 


THEKLA. 


Oh, thy own 
Hath long ago decided. Follow thou 
Thy heart’s first feeling — 


COUNTESS. 
Oh! ill-fated woman ! 


THEKLA. 


Ts it possible, that that can be the right, 
The which thy tender heart did not at first 
Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go, 
Fulfil thy duty! I should ever love thee. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 279 


Whate’er thou hast chosen, thou wouldst still have acted 
Nobly and worthy of thee — but repentance } 
Shall ne’er disturb thy soul’s fair peace. 


MAX. 
Then I 
Must leave thee, must part from thee ! 
THEKLA. 
Being faithful 


To thine own self, thou art faithful, too, to me: 
If our fates part, our hearts remain united. 

A bloody hatred will divide for ever 

The houses Piccolomini and Friedland ; 

But we belong not to our houses. Go! 

Quick! quick! and separate thy righteous cause 
From our unholy and unblessed one ! 

The curse of heaven lies upon our head: 

"Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me 

My father’s guilt drags with it to perdition. 
Mourn not for me: 

My destiny will quickly be decided. 

[MaAx. clasps her in his arms in extreme emotion. 
There is heard from behind the scene a loud, 
wild, long-continued cry, Vivat Ferdinandus! 
accompanied by warlike instruments. Max. 
and THEKLA remain without motion in each 
other’s embraces. 


ScENE XXII. 


To the above enter TERZKY. 


COUNTESS (meeting him). 
What meant that cry? What was it ? 


280 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


TERZKY. 
All is lost! 


COUNTESS. 
What! they regarded not his countenance ? 


TERZKY. 
"Twas all in vain. 
DUCHESS. 


They shouted Vivat ! 


TERZKY. 
To the emperor.- 


COUNTESS. 
The traitors! 
TERZKY. 


Nay ! he was not permitted 
Even to address them. Soon as he began, 
With deafening noise of warlike instruments 
They drowned his words. But here he comes. 


SCENE XXIII. 


To these enter WALLENSTEIN, accompanied by ILLO and 
BUTLER. 


WALLENSTEIN (as he enters). 
Terzky ! 
TERZKY. 
My general ! 
WALLENSTEIN. 
Let our regiments hold themselves 
In readiness to march; for we shall leave 
Pilsen ere evening. | Hatt TERZKY. 
Butler ! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 281 


BUTLER. 
Yes, my general. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The Governor of Egra is your friend 

And countryman. Write him instantly 

By a post courier. He must be advised 

That we are with him early on the morrow. 
You follow us yourself, your regiment with you. 


BUTLER. 
It shall be done, my general! 


WALLENSTEIN (steps between MAX. and THEKLA, who 
have remained during this time in each other’s arms). 


Part ! 


MAX. 
O God! 
[CUIRASSIERS enter with drawn swords, and as- 
semble in the background. At the same time 
there are heard from below some spirited pas- 
sages out of the Pappenheim March, which 
seem to address MAX. 


WALLENSTEIN (¢o the CUIRASSIERS). 


Here he is, he is at liberty: I keep him 
No longer. 
[He turns away, and stands so that MAX. cannot 
pass by him nor approach the PRINCESS. 


MAX. 


Thou know’st that I have not yet learnt to live 
Without thee! I go forth into a desert, 
Leaving my all behind me. Oh, do not turn 


\ 


282 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Thine eyes away from me! Oh, once more show me 
Thy ever dear and honoured countenance. 
[Max. attempts to take his hand, but 1s repelled : 
he turns to the COUNTESS. 
Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me ? 
[The CouNTESS turns away from him; he turns 
to the DUCHESS. 
My mother! 


DUCHESS. 


Go where duty calls you. Haply 
The time may come when you may prove to us 
A true friend, a good angel at the throne 
Of the emperor. 


MAX. 


You give me hope ; you would not 
Suffer me wholly to despair. No! no! 
Mine is a certain misery. Thanks to heaven! 
That offers me a means of ending it. 
[The military muste begins again. The stage fills 
more and more with armed men. MAX. sees 
BuTLER, and addresses him. 
And you here, Colonel Butler —and will you 
Not follow me? Well, then, remain more faithful 
To your new lord than you have proved yourself 
To the emperor. Come, Butler! promise me. 
Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be 
The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman. 
He is attainted, and his princely head 
Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder. 
Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship, 
And those whom here I see — 
[Casting suspicious looks on ILLO and BUTLER. 


TLLo. 
Go — seek for traitors 
In Gallas’, in your father’s quarters. Here 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 283 


Is only one. Away! away! and free us 
From his detested sight! Away! 

[Max. attempts once more to approach THEKLA. 
WALLENSTEIN prevents him. MAx. stands 
urresolute, and in apparent anguish. In the 
meantime the stage fills more and more ; and 
the horns sound from below louder and louder, 
and each time after a shorter interval. 


MAX. 


Blow, blow! Oh, were it but the Swedish trumpets, 
And all the naked swords, which I see here, 
Were plunged into my breast! What purpose you ? 
You come to tear me from this place! Beware, 
Ye drive me not to desperation. Do it not! 
Ye may repent it! 

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men. 
Yet more! weight upon weight to drag me down. 
Think what ye’re doing. It is not well done 
To choose a man despairing for your leader ; 
You tear me from my happiness. Well, then, 
I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark! 
For your own ruin you have chosen me: 
Who goes with me must be prepared to perish. 

[He turns to the background; there ensues a 
sudden and violent movement among the 
CUIRASSIERS ; they surround him, and carry 
him off in wild tumult. WALLENSTEIN re- 
mains ummovable. THEKLA sinks into her 
mother’s arms. The curtain falls. The music 
becomes loud and overpowering, and passes 
into a complete war-march — the orchestra 
joins it — and continues during the interval 
between the third and fourth acts. 


284 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


AU IIN 
SCENE I. 
The BURGOMASTER’S house at Egra. 


BUTLER (just arrwed). 


Here then he is by his destiny conducted. 
Here, Friedland! and no further! From Bohemia 
Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile, 
And here upon the borders of Bohemia 
Must sink. 

Thou hast forsworn the ancient colours, 
Blind man! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes. 
Profaner of the altar and the hearth, 
Against thy emperor and fellow citizens 
Thou meanest to wage the war. Friedland, beware — 
The evil spirit of revenge impels thee — 
Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not! 


ScENE II. 
BuTLER and GORDON. 


GORDON. 
Is it you? 
How my heart sinks! The duke a fugitive traitor! 
His princely head attainted! Oh, my God! 
Tell me, general, I implore thee, tell me 
In full, of all these sad events at Pilsen. 


BUTLER. 


You have received the letter which I sent you 
By a post-courier ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON. 


Yes: and in obedience to it 
Opened the stronghold to him without scruple, 
For an imperial letter orders me 
To follow your commands implicitly. 
But yet forgive me! when even now I saw 
The duke himself, my scruples recommenced. 
For truly, not like an attainted man, 
Into this town did Friedland make his entrance ; 
His wonted majesty beamed from his brow, 
And calm, as in the days when all was right, 
Did he receive from me the accounts of office. 
Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension. 
But sparing and with dignity the duke 
Weighed every syllable of approbation, 
As masters praise a servant who has done 
His duty and no more. 


BUTLER. 


Tis all precisely 
As I related in my letter. Friedland 
Has sold the army to the enemy, 
And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra. 
On this report the regiments all forsook him, 
The five excepted that belong to Terzky, 
And which have followed him, as thou hast seen. 
The sentence of attainder is passed on him, 
And every loyal subject is required 
To give him in to justice, dead or living. 


GORDON. 


A traitor to the emperor. Such a noble! 

Of such high talents! What is human greatness ? 
I often said, this can’t end happily. 

His might, his greatness, and this obscure power 
Are but a covered pitfall. The human being 


285 


286 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


May not be trusted to self-government. 

The clear and written law, the deep-trod footmarks 
Of ancient custom, are all necessary 

To keep him in the road of faith and duty. 

The authority intrusted to this man 

Was unexampled and unnatural, 

It placed him on a level with his emperor, 

Till the proud soul unlearned submission. Woe is me! 
I mourn for him! for where he fell, I deem 

Might none stand firm. Alas! dear general, 

We in our lucky mediocrity 

Have ne’er experienced, cannot calculate, 

What dangerous wishes such a height may breed 
In the heart of such a man. 


BUTLER. 


Spare your laments 
Till he need sympathy ; for at this present 
He is still mighty, and still formidable. 
The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches, 
And quickly will the junction be accomplished. 
This must not be! The duke must never leave 
This stronghold on free footing; for I have 
Pledged life and honour here to hold him prisoner, 
And your assistance ’tis on which I calculate. 


GORDON. 


O that I had not lived to see this day! 

From his hand I received this dignity, 

He did himself intrust this stronghold to me, 
Which I am now required to make his He 
We subalterns have no will of our own: 

The free, the mighty man alone may listen 

To the fair impulse of his human nature. 

Ah! we are but the poor tools of the law, 
Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 287 


BUTLER. 


Nay! let it not afflict you, that your power 
Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error! 
The narrow path of duty is securest. 


GORDON. 


And all then have deserted him, you say ? 
He has built up the luck of many thousands, 
For kingly was his spirit: his full hand 
Was ever open! Many a one from dust 
[ With a sly glance on BUTLER. 
Hath he selected, from the very dust 
Hath raised him into dignity and honour. 
And yet no friend, not one friend hath he purchased, 
Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour. 


BUTLER. 
Here’s one, I see. 


GORDON. 


I have enjoyed from him 
No grace or favour. I could almost doubt, 
If ever in his greatness he once thought on 
An old friend of his youth. For still my office 
Kept me at distance from him; and when first 
He to this citadel appointed me, 
He was sincere and serious in his duty. 
I do not then abuse his confidence, 
If I preserve my fealty in that 
Which to my fealty was first delivered. 


BUTLER. 


Say, then, will you fulfil the attainder on him, 
And lend your aid to take him in arrest ? 


288 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN ~ 


GORDON (pauses, reflecting — then as in deep dejection). 


If it be so —if all be as you say — 

If he’ve betrayed the emperor, his master, 

Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver 
The strongholds of the country to the enemy — 
Yea, truly !— there is no redemption for him! 
Yet it is hard, that me the lot should destine 
To be the instrument of his perdition ; 

For we were pages at the court of Bergau 

At the same period ; but I was the senior. 


BUTLER. 
I have heard so — 


GORDON. 


"Tis full thirty years since then. 
A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year 
Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends: 
Yet even then he had a daring soul: 
His frame of mind was serious and severe 
Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects ; 
He walked amidst us of a silent spirit, 
Communing with himself; yet I have known him 
Transported on a sudden into utterance 
Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendour 
His soul revealed itself, and he spake so 
That we looked round perplexed upon each other, 
Not knowing whether it were craziness, 
Or whether it were a god that spoke in him. 


BUTLER. 


But was it where he fell two story high 

From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen asleep 
And rose up free from injury? From this day 

(It is reported) he betrayed clear marks 

Of a distempered fancy. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 289 


GORDON. 


He became 
Doubtless more self-enwrapped and melancholy ; 
He made himself a Catholic! Marvellously 
His marvellous preservation had transformed him. 
Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted 
And privileged being, and, as if he were 
Incapable of dizziness or fall, 
He ran along the unsteady rope of life. 
But now our destinies drove us asunder ; 
He paced with rapid step the way of greatness, 
Was count, and prince, duke-regent, and dictator, 
And now is all, all this too little for him; 
He stretches forth his hands for a king’s crown, 
And plunges in unfathomable ruin. 


BUTLER. 
No more, he comes. 


ScENE III. 


To these enter WALLENSTEIN, in conversation with the 
BURGOMASTER of Lgra. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


You were at one time a free town. I see 
Ye bear the half-eagle in your city arms. 
Why the half-eagle only ? 


BURGOMASTER. 


We were free, 
But for the last two hundred years has Egra 


1]t appears that the account of his conversion being caused by 
such a fall, and other stories of his juvenile character, are not 
well authenticated. 


290 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Remained in pledge to the Bohemian crown ; 
Therefore we bear the half-eagle, the other half 
Being cancelled till the empire ransom us, 

If ever that should be. 


' WALLENSTEIN. 


Ye merit freedom. 
Only be firm and dauntless. Lend your ears 
To no designing whispering court minions. 
What may your imposts be ? 


BURGOMASTER. 


So heavy that 
We totter under them. The garrison 
Lives at our costs. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I will relieve you. Tell me, 
There are some Protestants among you still ? 
[Zhe BURGOMASTER hesitates. 
Yes, yes; I know it. Many lie concealed 
Within these walls. Confess now, you yourself — 
[Hives his eye on him. The BURGOMASTER alarmed. 
Be not alarmed. I hate the Jesuits. 
Could my will have determined it they had 
Been long ago expelled the empire. Trust me — 
Mass-book or Bible, ’tis all one to me. 
Of that the world has had sufficient proof. 
I built a church for the Reformed in Glogau 
At my own instance. Hark ye, burgomaster! 
What is your name? 


BURGOMASTER. 
Pachhalbel, may it please you. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 291 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Hark ye! But let it go no further, what I now 
Disclose to you in confidence. 

[Laying his hand on the BURGOMASTER’S shoulder 

with a certain solemnity. 
The times 

Draw near to their fulfilment, burgomaster ! 
The high will fall, the low will be exalted. 
Hark ye! But keep it to yourself! The end 
Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy — 
A new arrangement is at hand. You saw 
The three moons that appeared at once in the heaven ? 


BURGOMASTER. 
With wonder and affright ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Whereof did two 
Strangely transform theniselves to bloody daggers, 
And only one, the middle moon, remained 
Steady and clear. 


BURGOMASTER. 
We applied it to the Turks. 


WALLENSTEIN. ' 


The Turks! That all? I tell you that two empires 
Will set in blood, in the East and in the West, 
And Lutherism alone remain. 
[Observing GORDON and BUTLER. 
YT faith, 
"Twas a smart cannonading that we heard 
This evening, as we journeyed hitherward : 
"Twas on our left hand. Did ye hear it here ? 


292 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON. 
Distinctly. The wind brought it from the south. 


BUTLER. 


It seemed to come from Weiden or from Neustadt. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


’Tis likely. That’s the route the Swedes are taking. 
How strong is the garrison ? 


GORDON. 


Not quite two hundred 
Competent men, the rest are invalids. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Good! And how many in the vale of Jochim ? 


GORDON. 


Two hundred arquebusiers have I sent thither 
To fortify the posts against the Swedes. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Good! I commend your foresight. At the works too 
You have done somewhat ? 
GORDON. 


Two additional batteries 
I caused to be run up. They were needless ; 
The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, general! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


You have been watchful in your emperor’s service. 
I am content with you, lieutenant-colonel. 
[ Zo BUTLER. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 293 


Release the outposts in the vale of Jochim, 
With all the stations in the enemy’s route. 
[Zo GoRDON. 
Governor, in your faithful hands I leave 
My wife, my daughter, and my sister. I 
Shall make no stay here, and wait but the arrival 
Of letters to take leave of you, together 
With all the regiments. 


Scene IV. 
To these enter CoUNT TERZKY. 


TERZKY. 
Joy, general, joy! I bring you welcome tidings. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
And what may they be? 


TERZKY. 


There has been an engagement 
At Neustadt ; the Swedes gained the victory. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


From whence did you receive the intelligence ? 


TERZKY. 


A countryman from Tirschenreut conveyed it. 
Soon after sunrise did the fight begin ! 

A troop of the imperialists from Tachau 

Had forced their way into the Swedish camp ; 
The cannonade continued full two hours; 
There were left dead upon the field a thousand 
Imperialists, together with their colonel ; 
Further than this he did not know. 


294 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 
How came 
Imperial troops at Neustadt? Altringer, 
But yesterday, stood sixty miles from there. 
Count Gallas’ force collects at Frauenburg, 
And have not the full complement. Is it possible 
That Suys perchance had ventured so far onward ? 
It cannot be. 
TERZKY. 


We shall soon know the whole, 
For here comes Illo, full of haste, and joyous. 


SCENE V. 
To these enter ILLO. 


ILLO (0 WALLENSTEIN). 
A courier, duke! he wishes to speak with thee. 


TERZKY (eagerly). 
Does he bring confirmation of the victory ? 


WALLENSTEIN (at the same time). 
What does he bring? Whence comes he ? 


ILLO. 


From the Rhinegrave, 

And what he brings I can announce to you 
Beforehand. Seven leagues distant are the Swedes; 
At Neustadt did Max. Piccolomini 
Throw himself on them with the cavalry ; 
A murderous fight took place! o’erpowered by numbers, 
The Pappenheimers all, with Max. their leader, 

WALLENSTEIN shudders and turns pale. 
Were left dead on the field. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 295 


WALLENSTEIN (after a pause, in a low vore). 


Where is the messenger? Conduct me to him. 
[WALLENSTEIN 7s going, when LADY NEUBRUNN 
rushes into the room. Some servants follow 
her and run across the stage. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Help! Help! : 


ILLO and TERZKY (at the same tume). 
What now ? 


NEUBRUNN. 
The princess ! 


WALLENSTEIN and TERZKY. 
Does she know it ? 


NEUBRUNN (at the same time with them). 


She is dying! 
[Hurries off the stage, when WALLENSTEIN and 
TERZKY follow her. 


ScenE VI. 
BUTLER and GORDON. 


; GORDON. 
What’s this ? 
BUTLER. 


She has lost the man she loved — 
Young Piccolomini, who fell in the battle. 


296 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON. 


Unfortunate lady ! 
BUTLER. 


You have heard what Ilo 
Reporteth, that the Swedes are conquerors, 
And marching hitherward. 


GORDON. 
Too well I heard it. 


BUTLER. 
They are twelve regiments strong, and there are five 
Close by us to protect the duke. We have 
Only my single regiment ; and the garrison 
Is not two hundred strong. 
GORDON. 
"Tis even so. 


BUTLER. 


It is not possible with such small force 
To hold in custody a man like him. 


GORDON. 
I grant it. 
BUTLER. 


Soon the numbers would disarm us, 
And liberate him. 
GORDON. 


It were to be feared. 


BUTLER (after a pause). 


Know, I am warranty for the event ; 
With my head have I pledged myself for his, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 297 


Must make my word good, cost it what it will, 
And if alive we cannot hold him prisoner, 
Why — death makes all things certain ! 


GORDON. 
Butler! What? 
Do I understand you? Gracious God! You could — 


BUTLER. 
He must not live. 
GORDON. 


And you can do the deed ? 


BUTLER. 
Either you or I. This morning was his last. 


GORDON. 
You would assassinate him ? 


BUTLER. 
"Tis my purpose. 


GORDON. 
Who leans with his whole confidence upon you! 


BUTLER. 
Such is his evil destiny ! 


GORDON. 


Your general ! 
The sacred person of your general ! 


BUTLER. 
My general he has been. 


298 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON. 


That ’tis only 
An “has been” washes out no villainy, 
And without judgment passed. 


BUTLER. 


The execution 
Is here instead of judgment. 


GORDON. 


This were murder, 
Not justice. The most guilty should be heard. 


BUTLER. 


His guilt is clear, the emperor has passed judgment, 
And we but execute his will. 


GORDON. 


We should not 
Hurry to realise a bloody sentence. 
A word may be recalled, a life never can be. 


BUTLER. 
Despatch in service pleases sovereigns. 


GORDON. 


No honest man’s ambitious to press forward 
To the hangman’s service. 


BUTLER. 


And no brave man loses 
His colour at a daring enterprise. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON. 


A brave man hazards life, but not his conscience. 


BUTLER. 


What then? Shall he go forth anew to kindle 
The unextinguishable flame of war ? 


GORDON. 


a9 


Seize him, and hold him prisoner — do not kill him. 


BUTLER. 


Had not the emperor’s army been defeated 
I might have done so. But ’tis now passed by. 


GORDON. 
Oh, wherefore opened I the stronghold to him ? 


BUTLER. 
His destiny, and not the place destroys him. 


GORDON. 
Upon these ramparts, as beseemed a soldier, 


I had fallen, defending the emperor’s citadel! 


BUTLER. 


Yes ! and a thousand gallant men have perished ! 


GORDON. 


Doing their duty — that adorns the man! 
But murder’s a black deed, and nature curses it. 


300 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER (brings out a paper). 


Here is the manifesto which commands us 
To gain possession of his person. See — 

It is addressed to you as well as me. 

Are you content to take the consequences, 
Tf through our fault he escape to the enemy ? 


GORDON. 
I? Gracious God! 


BUTLER. 


Take it on yourself. 
Come of it what may, on you I lay it. 


GORDON. 
Oh, God in heaven! 


BUTLER. 


Can you advise aught else 
Wherewith to execute the emperor’s purpose ? 
Say if you can. For I desire his fall, 
Not his destruction. 
GORDON. 


Merciful heaven! what must be 
I see as clear as you. Yet still the heart 
Within my bosom beats with other feelings! 


BUTLER. 


Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity 
In her rough school hath steeled me. And this Ilo, 
And Terzky likewise, they must not survive him. 


GORDON. 


I feel no pang for these. Their own bad hearts 
Impelled them, not the influence of the stars. 
"Twas they who strewed the seeds of evil passions 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 301 


In his calm breast, and with officious villainy 
Watered and nursed the poisonous plants. May they 
Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite ! 


BUTLER. 


And their death shall precede his! 

We meant to have taken them alive this evening 
Amid the merrymaking of a feast, 

And keep them prisoners in the citadel, 

But this makes shorter work. I go this instant 
To give the necessary orders. 


ScENE VIL. 
To these enter ILLo and TERZKY. 


TERZKY. 


Our luck is on the turn. To-morrow come 

The Swedes — twelve thousand gallant warriors, Illo! 
Then straightwise for Vienna. Cheerily, friend ! 
What! meet such news with such a moody face ? 


ILLO. 


It lies with us at present to prescribe 

Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless traitors, 
Those skulking cowards that deserted us; 

One has already done his bitter penance, 

The Piccolomini: be his the fate 

Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure 

To the old man’s heart; he has his whole life long 
Fretted and toiled to raise his ancient house 

From a count’s title to the name of prince; 

And now must seek a grave for his only son. 


302 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BULTER. 


‘Twas pity, though! A youth of such heroic 
And gentle temperament! The duke himself, 
"Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart. 


ILLO. 


Hark ye, old friend! That is the very point 
That never pleased me in our general — 

He ever gave the preference to the Italians. 
Yea, at this very moment, by my soul! 

He’d gladly see us all dead ten times over, 
Could he thereby recall his friend to life. 


TERZKY. 


Hush, hush! Let the dead rest ! This evening’s business 
Is, who can fairly drink the other down — 

Your regiment, Illo! gives the entertainment. 

Come! we will keep a merry carnival — 

The night for once be day, and ’mid full glasses 

Will we expect the Swedish avant-garde. 


ILLO. 


Yes, let us be of good cheer for to-day, 
For there’s hot work before us, friends! This sword 
Shall have no rest till it is bathed to the hilt 
In Austrian blood. 
GORDON. 


Shame, shame! what talk is this, 
My lord field-marshal? Wherefore foam you so 
Against your emperor ? 
BUTLER. 


Hope not too much 
From this first victory. Bethink you, sirs! 
How rapidly the wheel of fortune turns; 
The emperor still is formidably strong. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 303 


ILLO. 


The emperor has soldiers, no commander, 
For this King Ferdinand of Hungary 

Is but a tyro. Gallas? He’s no luck, 
And was of old the ruiner of armies. 

And then this viper, this Octavio, 

Is excellent at stabbing in the back, 

But ne’er meets Friedland in the open field. 


TERZKY. 


Trust me, my friends, it cannot but succeed ; 
Fortune, we know, can ne’er forsake the duke! 
And only under Wallenstein can Austria 
Be conqueror. 

ILLO. 


The duke will soon assemble 
A mighty army: all come crowding, streaming 
To banners, dedicate by destiny 
To fame, and prosperous fortune. I behold 
Old times come back again! he will become 
Once more the mighty lord which he has been. 
How will the fools, who’ve now deserted him, 
Look then? I can’t but laugh to think of them, 
For lands will he present to all his friends, 
And lke a king and emperor reward 
True services; but we’ve the nearest claims. 
[Zo GORDON. 

You will not be forgotten, governor! 
He'll take you from this nest, and bid you shine 
In higher station: your fidelity 
Well merits it. 

| GORDON. 


I am content already, 
And wish to climb no higher; where great height is, 
The fall must needs be great. “Great height, great 
depth.” 


304 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ILLO. 


Here you have no more business, for to-morrow 
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel. 
Come, Terzky, it is supper-time. What think you? 
Nay, shall we have the town illuminated 

In honour of the Swede? And who refuses 

To do it is a Spaniard and a traitor. 


TERZKY. 
Nay! nay! not that, it will not please the duke — 


ILLO. 


What! we are masters here; no soul shall dare 
Avow himself imperial where we've the rule. 
Gordon! good night, and for the last time take 

A fair leave of the place. Send out patrols 

To make secure, the watchword may be altered. 
At the stroke of ten deliver in the keys 

To the duke himself, and then you’ve quit for ever 
Your wardship of the gates, for on to-morrow 

The Swedes will take possession of the citadel. 


TERZKY (as he is going, to BUTLER). 
You come, though, to the castle ? 


BUTLER. 


At the right time. 
[Haeunt TERZKY and ILLo. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 305 


Scene VIII. 
GORDON and BUTLER. 


GORDON (looking after them). 


Unhappy men! How free from all foreboding! 
They rush into the outspread net of murder 

In the blind drunkenness of victory ; 

I have no pity for their fate. This IIlo, 

This overflowing and foolhardy villain, 

That would fain bathe himself in his emperor’s blood. 


BUTLER. 


Do as he ordered you. Send round patrols, 
Take measures for the citadel’s security ; 
When they are within I close the castle gate 
That nothing may transpire. 


GORDON (with earnest anxvety). 


Oh! haste not so! 
Nay, stop; first tell me — 


BUTLER. 


, You have heard already, 
To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night 
Alone is ours. They make good expedition. 

But we will make still greater. Fare you well. 


GORDON. 


Ah! your looks tell me nothing good. Nay, Butler, 
I pray you promise me! 


306 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 


The sun has set ; 
A fateful evening doth descend upon us, 
And brings on their long night! Their evil stars 
Deliver them unarmed into our hands, 
And from their-drunken dream of golden fortunes 
The dagger at their hearts shall rouse them. Well, 
The duke was ever a great calculator ; 
His fellow men were figures on his chess-board 
To move and station, as his game required. 
Other men’s honour, dignity, good name, 
Did he shift like pawns, and made no conscience of, 
Still calculating, calculating still ; 
And yet at last his calculation proves 
Erroneous; the whole game is lost; and lo! 
His own life will be found among the forfeits. 


GORDON. 


Oh, think not of his errors now! remember 
His greatness, his munificence ; think on all 
The lovely features of his character, 

On all the noble exploits of his life, 

And let them, like an angel’s arm, unseen, 
Arrest the lifted sword. 


BUTLER. 


It is too late. 
I suffer not myself to feel compassion, 
Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now. 
[Grasping GorDon’s hand. 
Gordon! ’tis not my hatred (I pretend not 
To love the duke, and have no cause to love him). 
Yet ‘tis not now my hatred that impels me 
To be his murderer. ’Tis his evil fate. 
Hostile occurrences of many events 
Control and subjugate me to the office. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 307 


In vain the human being meditates 
Free action. He is but the wire-worked! puppet 
Of the blind Power, which out of its own choice, 
Creates for him a dread necessity. 
What too would it avail him if there were 
A something pleading for him in my heart — 
Still I must kill him. 

GORDON. 


If your heart speak to you, 
Follow its impulse. ’Tis the voice of God. 
Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous 
Bedewed with blood —his blood? Believe it not! 


BUTLER. 


You know not. Ask not! Wherefore should it happen 
That the Swedes gained the victory, and hasten 
With such forced marches hitherwards? Fain would I 
Have given him to the emperor’s mercy. Gordon! 
I do not wish his blood, — but I must ransom 
The honour of my word, — it lies in pledge — 
And he must die, or — 
[ Passionately grasping GoRDON’S hand. 
Listen, then, and know 
I am dishonoured if the duke escape us. 


GORDON. 
Oh! to save such a man — 


BUTLER. 
What! 


GORDON. 
It is worth 
A sacrifice. Come, friend! Be noble-minded ! 


1 We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a statement 
in the mouth of any character. — T. 


308 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Our own heart, and not other men’s opinions, 
Forms our true honour. 


BUTLER (with a cold and haughty atr). 


; He is a great lord, 
This duke, and I am of but mean importance. 
This is what you would say! Wherein concerns it 
The world at large, you mean to hint to me, 
Whether the man of low extraction keeps 
Or blemishes his honour — 
So that the man of princely rank be saved ? 
We all do stamp our value on ourselves: 
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us. 
There does not live on earth the man so stationed 
That I despise myself compared with him. 
Man is made great or little by his own will ; 
Because I am true to mine therefore he dies! 


GORDON. 


I am endeavouring to move a rock. 

Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings. 

I cannot hinder you, but may some God 

Rescue him from you! [Lait GORDON. 


BUTLER ! (alone). 


I treasured my good name all my life long; 
The duke has cheated me of life’s best jewel, 
So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon! 
He prizes above all his fealty ; 
His conscious soul accuses him of nothing ; 
In opposition to his own soft heart 
He subjugates himself to an iron duty. 
1This soliloquy, which, according to the former arrangement, 
constituted the whole of scene ix., and concluded the fourth act, 
is omitted in all the printed German editions. It seems probable 


that it existed in the original manuscript from which Mr. Cole- 
ridge translated. — Ep. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 309 


Me in a weaker moment passion warped ; 

I stand beside him, and must feel myself 

The worst man of the two. What though the world 

Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet 

One man does know it, and can prove it, too — 

High-minded Piccolomini! 

There lives the man who can dishonour me! 

This ignominy blood alone can cleanse! 

Duke Friedland, thou or I Into my own hands 

Fortune delivers me. The dearest thing a man has is 
himself. 


ScENE IX. 


[A Gothic and gloomy apartment at the DUCHESS 
FRIEDLAND’S. THEKLA on a seat, pale, her 
eyes closed. The DucHESS and Lapy NEv- 
BRUNN busied about her. WALLENSTEIN and 
the COUNTESS in conversation. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
How knew she it so soon ? 


COUNTESS. 


She seems to have 
Foreboded some misfortune. The report 
Of an engagement, in which had fallen 
A colonel of the imperial army, frightened her. 
I saw it instantly. She flew to meet 
The Swedish courier, and with sudden questioning 
Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret. 
Too late we missed her, hastened after her ; 
We found her lying in his arms, all pale, 
And in a swoon. 


310 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 


A heavy, heavy blow! 
And she so unprepared! Poor child! how is it ? 
[ Turning to the DUCHESS. 
Is she coming to herself ? 


DUCHESS. 
Her eyes are opening. 


COUNTESS. 
She lives ! 
THEKLA (looking around her). 


Where am [ ? 


WALLENSTEIN (steps to her, raising her up in his arms). 


Come, cheerly, Thekla! be my own brave girl! 
See, there’s thy loving mother. Thou art in 
Thy father’s arms. 


THEKLA (standing up). 
Where is he? Is he gone? 


DUCHESS. 
Who gone, my daughter ? 


THEKLA. 


He — the man who uttered 
That word of misery. 


DUCHESS. 


Oh, think not of it! 
My Thekla ! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 311 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Give her sorrow leave to talk! 
Let her complain — mingle your tears with hers, 
For she hath suffered a deep anguish; but 
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla 
Hath all her father’s unsubdued heart. 


THEKLA. 


Tam not ill. See, I have power to stand. 

Why does my mother weep? Have I alarmed her? 
It is gone by —I recollect myself. 

[She casts her eyes round the room, as seeking some one. 
Where is he? Please you, do not hide him from me. 
You see I have strength enough: now I will hear him. 


DUCHESS. 


No; never shall this messenger of evil 
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla! 


THEKLA. 
My father — 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Dearest daughter ! 


THEKLA. 


Tm not weak. 
Shortly I shall be quite myself again. 
You'll grant me one request ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Name it, my daughter. 


312 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


THEKLA. 


Permit the stranger to be called to me, 
And grant me leave, that by myself I may 
Hear his report and question him. 


DUCHESS. 
No, never ! 


COUNTESS. 


Tis not advisable — assent not to it. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Hush! Wherefore wouldst thou speak with him, my 
daughter ? 


THEKLA. 


Knowing the whole, I shall be more collected ; 
I will not be deceived. My mother wishes 
Only to spare me. I will not be spared — 
The worst is said already: I can hear 
Nothing of deeper anguish ! 


COUNTESS and DUCHESS. 
Do it not. 


THEKLA. 


The horror overpowered me by surprise, 

My heart betrayed me in the stranger’s presence : 
He was a witness of my weakness, yea, 

I sank into his arms; and that has shamed me. 

I must replace myself in his esteem, 

And I must speak with him, perforce, that he, 
The stranger, may not think ungently of me. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 313 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I see she is in the right, and am inclined 
To grant her this request of hers. Go, call him. 
[ Lapy NEUBRUNN goes to call him. 


DUCHESS. 
But I, thy mother, will be present — 


THEKLA. 
"T were 
More pleasing to me if alone I saw him; 
Trust me, I shall behave myself the more 
Collectedly. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


Permit her her own will. 
Leave her alone with him: for there are sorrows, 
Where of necessity the soul must be 
Its own support. A strong heart will rely 
On its own strength alone. In her own bosom, 
Not in her mother’s arms, must she collect 
The strength to rise superior to this blow. 
It is mine own brave girl. [ll have her treated 
Not as the woman, but the heroine. [ Going. 


COUNTESS (detaining him). 


Where art thou going? I heard Terzky say 
That ’tis thy purpose to depart from hence 
To-morrow early, but to leave us here. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Yes, ye stay here, placed under the protection 
Of gallant men. 
COUNTESS. 


Oh, take us with you, brother. 
Leave us not in this gloomy solitude. 


314 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


To brood o’er anxious thoughts. The mists of doubt 
Magnify evils to a shape of horror. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Who speaks.of evil? I entreat you, sister, 
Use words of better omen. 


COUNTESS. 


Then take us with you. 
Oh, leave us not behind you in a place 
That forces us to such sad omens. Heavy 
And sick within me is my heart — 
These walls breath on me like a churchyard vault. 
I cannot tell you, brother, how this place 
Doth go against my nature. Take us with you. 
Come, sister, join you your entreaty! Niece, 
Yours too. We all entreat you, take us with you! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The place’s evil omens will I change, 
Making it that which shields and shelters for me 
My best beloved. 


LADY NEUBRUNN (returning). 
The Swedish officer. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Leave her alone with me. 


DUCHESS (to THEKLA, who starts and shivers). 


There — pale as death! Child, ’tis impossible 
That thou shouldst speak with him. Follow thy 
mother. 


aa 


Lae. 4 
Ede te ig 


= 
Pind 
o 


ms 
*e 

¥ 

s 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 315 


THEKLA. 


The Lady Neubrunn then may stay with me. 
[Haeunt DUCHESS and COUNTESS. 


SCENE X. 
THEKLA, THE SWEDISH CAPTAIN, LADY NEUBRUNN. 


CAPTAIN (respectfully approaching her). 


Princess — I must entreat your gentle pardon — 
My inconsiderate rash speech. How could I— 


THEKLA (with dignity). 


You have beheld me in my agony. 
A most distressful accident occasioned 
You from a stranger to become at once 
My confidant. 

CAPTAIN. 


I fear you hate my presence, 
For my tongue spake a melancholy word. 


THEKLA. 


The fault is mine. Myself did wrest it from you. 
The horror which came o’er me interrupted 

Your tale at its commencement. May it please you, 
Continue it to the end. 


CAPTAIN. 


Princess, twill 
Renew your anguish. 
THEKLA. 


Lam firm 
I will be firm. Well — how began the engagement ? 


316 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


CAPTAIN. 


We lay, expecting no attack, at Neustadt, 
Intrenched but insecurely in our camp, 

When toward evening rose a cloud of dust 

From the wood thitherward ; our vanguard fied 
Into the camp, and sounded the alarm. 

Scarce had we mounted ere the Pappenheimers, 
Their horses at full speed, broke through the lines, 
And leaped the trenches; but their heedless courage 
Had borne them onward far before the others — 
The infantry were still at distance, only 

The Pappenheimers followed daringly 

Their daring leader — 

[THEKLA betrays agitation im her gestures. The 
officer pauses till she makes a sign to him to 
proceed. 

Both in van and flanks 
With our whole cavalry we now received them ; 
Back to the trenches drove them, where the foot 
Stretched out a solid ridge of pikes to meet them. 
They neither could advance, nor yet retreat ; 
And as they stood on every side wedged in, 
The Rhinegrave to their leader called aloud, 
Inviting a surrender; but their leader, 
Young Piccolomini — 
[THEKLA, as giddy, grasps a chatr. 
Known by his plume, 
And his long hair, gave signal for the trenches ; 
Himself leaped first: the regiment all plunged after. 
His charger, by a halbert gored, reared up, 
Flung him with violence off, and over him 
The horses, now no longer to be curbed, — 

[THEKLA, who has accompanied the last speech 
with all the marks of wmereasing agony, trem- 
bles through her whole frame and is falling. 
The LADY NEUBRUNN runs to her, and receives 
her in her arms. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 
NEUBRUNN. 
My dearest lady — 
CAPTAIN. 
I retire. 
THEKLA. 
"Tis over, 


Proceed to the conclusion. 


CAPTAIN. 


Wild despair 
Inspired the troops with frenzy when they saw 
Their leader perish ; every thought of rescue 


317 


Was spurned ; they fought like wounded tigers; their 


Frantic resistance roused our soldiery ; 
A murderous fight took place, nor was the contest 
Finished before their last man fell. 


THEKLA ( faltering). 


And where — 
Where is — you have not told me all. 


CAPTAIN (after a pause). 


This morning 
We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth 
Did bear him to interment; the whole army 
Followed the bier. A laurel decked his coffin ; 
The sword of the deceased was placed upon it, 
In mark of honour by the Rhinegrave’s self; 
Nor tears were wanting, for there are among us 
Many, who had themselves experienced 
The greatness of his mind and gentle manners; 
All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave 
Would willingly have saved him; but himself 


Made vain the attempt ——’tis said he wished to die. 


318 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


NEUBRUNN (to THEKLA, who has hidden her cowntenanec). 
Look up, my dearest lady — 


THEKLA. 
Where is his grave ? 


CAPTAIN. 


At Neustadt, lady; in a cloister church 
Are his remains deposited, until 
We can receive directions from his father. 


THEKLA. 
What is the cloister’s name ? 


CAPTAIN. 
St. Catherine’s. 


THEKLA. 
And how far is it thither ? 


CAPTAIN. 
Near twelve leagues. 


THEKLA. 
And which the way ? 


CAPTAIN. 


You go by Tirschenreut 
And Falkenburg, through our advanced posts. 


THEKLA. 
Who 


Is their commander ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 319 


CAPTAIN. 


Colonel Seckendorf. 
[THEKLA steps to the table, and takes a ring from 
a casket. 


THEKLA. 


You have beheld me in my agony, 

And shown a feeling heart. Please you, accept 
[Giving him the ring. 

A small memorial of this hour. Now go! 


CAPTAIN (confusedly). 
Princess — 

[THEKLA silently makes signs to him to go, and 
turns from him. The captain lingers, and is 
about to speak. LADY NEUBRUNN repeats the 
signal, and he retires. 


SCENE XI. 
THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN. 


THEKLA (falls on LADY NEUBRUNN’S neck). 


Now gentle Neubrunn, show me the affection 
Which thou hast ever promised — prove thyself 
My own true friend and faithful fellow pilgrim. 
This night we must away ! 


NEUBRUNN. 
Away ! and whither ? 


THEKLA. 


Whither! There is but one place in the world. 
Thither, where he lies buried! To his coffin! 


320 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


NEUBRUNN. 
What would you do there? 


THEKLA. 


What do there ? 
That wouldst thou not have asked, hadst thou e’er loved. 
There, that is all that still remains of him! 
That single spot is the whole earth to me. 


NEUBRUNN. 
That place of death — 


THEKLA. 


Is now the only place 
Where life yet dwells for me: detain me not! 
Come and make preparations; let us think 
Of means to fly from hence. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Your father’s rage — 


THEKLA. 
That time is past — 
And now I fear no human being’s rage. 


NEUBRUNN. 
The sentence of the world! The tongue of calumny ! 


THEKLA. 


Whom am I seeking? Him who is no more. 
Am I then hastening to the arms— O God! 
I haste but to the grave of the beloved. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 321 


NEUBRUNN. 
And we alone, two helpless, feeble women ? 


THEKLA. 
We will take weapons: my arm shall protect thee. 


NEUBRUNN. 
In the dark night-time ? | 


THEKLA. 
Darkness will conceal us. 


NEUBRUNN. 
This rough tempestuous night — 


THEKLA. 


Had he a soft bed 
Under the hoofs of his war-horses ? 


NEUBRUNN. 
Heaven! 
And then the many posts of the enemy ! 


THEKLA. 


They are human beings. Misery travels free 
Through the whole earth. 


NEUBRUNN. 
The journey’s weary length — 


THEKLA. 


The pilgrim, travelling to a distant shrine 
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues. 


222 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


NEUBRUNN. 


How can we pass the gates ? 


THEKLA. 


Gold opens them. 
Go, do but go. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Should we be recognised — 


THEKLA. 


In a despairing woman, a poor fugitive, 
Will no one seek the daughter of Duke Friedland. 


NEUBRUNN. 
And where procure we horses for our flight ? 


THEKLA. 
My equerry procures them. Go and fetch him. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Dares he, without the knowledge of his lord ? 


THEKLA. 
He will. Go, only go. Delay no longer. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Dear lady! and your mother ? 


THEKLA. 
Oh! my mother! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 323 


NEUBRUNN. 


So much as she has suffered too already ; 
Your tender mother. Ah! how ill prepared 
For this last anguish! 


THEKLA. 


Woe is me! my mother! [Pauses. 
Go instantly. 2 
NEUBRUNN. 


But think! what you are doing! 


THEKLA. 
What can be thought, already has been thought. 


NEUBRUNN. 
And being there, what purpose you to do? 


THEKLA. 
There a divinity will prompt my soul. 


NEUBRUNN. 


Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted ! 
And this is not the way that leads to quiet. 


THEKLA. 


To a deep quiet, such as he has found, 

It draws me on, I know not what to name it, 
Resistless does it draw me to his grave. 

There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow. 

Oh, hasten, make no further questioning ! 

There is no rest for me till I have left 

These walls — they fall in on me —a dim power 
Drives me from hence — oh, mercy! What a feeling! 
What pale and hollow forms are those! They fill, 


374 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


They crowd the place! I have no longer room here! 
Mercy! Still more! More still! The hideous swarm, 
They press on me; they chase me from these walls — 
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men! 


NEUBRUNN. 


You frighten me so, lady, that no longer 
I dare stay here myself. I go and call 
Rosenberg instantly. [Lait LaDy NEUBRUNN. 


SCENE XII. 


THEKLA. 


His spirit ’tis that calls me: ’tis the troop 

Of his true followers, who offered up 

Themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me 

Of an ignoble loitering — they would not 

Forsake their leader even in his death; they died for 

him, 

And shall I live ? 

For me too was that laurel garland twined 

That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket: 

I throw it from me. Oh, my only hope! 

To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds — 

That is a lot of heroes upon earth! [Hatt THEKLA.? 
(The curtain drops.) 


1The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six and 
twenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recur- 
rence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole 
scene between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps, have 
been omitted without injury to the play. —C. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ScENE XITI. 


THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN, and ROSENBERG. 


NEUBRUNN. 
He is here, lady, and he will procure them. 


THEKLA. 
Wilt thou provide us horses, Rosenberg ? 


ROSENBERG. 
I will, my lady. 
THEKLA. 
And go with us as well? 


ROSENBERG. 
To the world’s end, my lady. 


THEKLA. 


But consider, 
Thou never canst return unto the duke. 


ROSENBERG. 
I will remain with thee. 


THEKLA. 


I will reward thee, 
And will commend thee to another master. 
Canst thou unseen conduct us from the castle ? 


ROSENBERG. 
T can. 


325 


326 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


THEKLA. 
When can I go? 


ROSENBERG. 


This very hour. 
But whither would you, lady ? 


THEKLA. 
To— _ Tell him, Neubrunn. 


NEUBRUNN. 
To Neustadt. 


| ROSENBERG. 
So; I leave you to get ready. [ Lait. 


NEUBRUNN. 
Oh, see, your mother comes. 


THEKLA. 
Indeed! O Heaven! 


ScENE XIV. 
THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN, the DUCHESS. 


DUCHESS. 
He’s gone! I find thee more composed, my child. 


THEKLA. 


I am so, mother; let me only now 
Retire to rest, and Neubrunn here be with me. 
I want repose. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 327 
DUCHESS. 
My Thekla, thou shalt have it. 
I leave thee now consoled, since I can calm 
Thy father’s heart. 
THEKLA. 


Good night, beloved mother! 
[Falling on her neck and embracing her with deep 
emotion. | 
DUCHESS. 


Thou scarcely art composed e’en now, my daughter. 
Thou tremblest strongly, and I feel thy heart 
Beat audibly on mine. 


THEKLA. 


Sleep will appease 
Its beating: now good night, good night, dear mother. 
(As she withdraws from her mother’s arms the curtain 


falls.) 


ACT V. 
ScENE I. 
Butler's Chamber 
BUTLER, and MaJor GERALDIN. 


BUTLER. 


Find me twelve strong dragoons, arm them with pikes. 
For there must be no firing — 

Conceal them somewhere near the banquet-room, 

And soon as the dessert is served up, rush all in 

And cry —“ Who is loyal to the emperor ?” 

I will overturn the table— while you attack 


328 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Ilo and Terzky, and despatch them both. 

The castle-palace is well barred and guarded, 
That no intelligence of this proceeding 

May make its way to the duke. Go instantly ; 
Have you yet sent for Captain Devereux 

And the Macdonald ? 


GERALDIN. 


They'll be here anon. 
[| Hait GERALDIN. 
BUTLER. 

Here’s no room for delay. ‘The citizens 
Declare for him —a dizzy drunken spirit 
Possesses the whole town. They see in the duke 
A prince of peace, a founder of new ages 
And golden times. Arms, too, have been given out 
By the town-council, and a hundred citizens 
Have volunteered themselves to stand on guard. 
Despatch! then, be the word; for enemies 
Threaten us from without and from within. 


ScENE II. 
BUTLER, CAPTAIN DEVEREUX, and MACDONALD. 


MACDONALD. 
Here we are, general. 


DEVEREUX. 
What’s to be the watchword ? 


BUTLER. 
Long live the emperor! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 329 


BOTH (recoiling). 
How ? 


BUTLER. 
Live the house of Austria. 


DEVEREUX. 
Have we not sworn fidelity to Friedland ? 


MACDONALD. 
Have we not marched to this place to protect him ? 


BUTLER. 
Protect a traitor and his country’s enemy ? 


DEVEREUX. 


Why, yes! in his name you administered 
Our oath. 


MACDONALD. 
And followed him yourself to Egra. 


BUTLER. 
I did it the more surely to destroy him. 


DEVEREUX. 
So, then! 
MACDONALD. 


An altered case! 


BUTLER (to DEVEREUX). 


Thou wretched man, 
So easily leavest thou thy oath and colours ? 


330 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


DEVEREUX. 


The devil! I but followed your example ; 
If you could prove a villain, why not we ? 


MACDONALD. 


We've naught to do with thinking — that’s your busi- 
ness. 

You are our general, and give out the orders ; 

We follow you, though the track lead to hell. 


BUTLER (appeased). 
Good, then! we know each other. 


MACDONALD. 
I should hope so. 


DEVEREUX. 


Soldiers of fortune are we — who bids most 
He has us. 


MACDONALD. 
"Tis e’en so! 


BUTLER. 


Well, for the present 
You must remain honest and faithful soldiers. 


DEVEREUX. 
We wish no other. 
BUTLER. 


Ay, and make your fortunes. 


MACDONALD. 
That is still better. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 331 


BUTLER. 
Listen ! 


BOTH. 
We attend. 


BUTLER. 


It is the emperor’s will and ordinance 
To seize the person of the Prince-Duke Friedland 
Alive or dead. 


DEVEREUX. 
It runs so in the letter. 


MACDONALD. 
Alive or dead — these were the very words. 


BUTLER. 


And he shall be rewarded from the state 
In land and gold who proffers aid thereto. 


DEVEREUX. 


Ay! that sounds well. The words sound always well 
That travel hither from the court. Yes! yes! 

We know already what court-words import. 

A golden chain perhaps in sign of favour, 

Or an old charger, or a parchment-patent, 

And such like. The prince-duke pays better. 


MACDONALD. 


Yes, 
The duke’s a splendid paymaster. 


332 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 
All over 
With that, my friends! His lucky stars are set. 


MACDONALD. 
And is that certain ? 


BUTLER. 
You have my word for it. 


DEVEREUX. 
His lucky fortune’s all passed by ? 


BUTLER. 
For ever. 
He is as poor as we. 


MACDONALD. 
As poor as we? 


DEVEREUX. 
Macdonald, we'll desert him. 


BUTLER. 


We'll desert him ? 
Full twenty thousand have done that already ; 
We must do more, my countrymen! In short — 
We — we must kill him. 


BOTH (starting back). 
Kill him! 


BUTLER. 
Yes, must kill him; 
And for that purpose have I chosen you. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 333 


BOTH. 
Us! 
BUTLER. 


You, Captain Devereux, and thee, Macdonald. 


DEVEREUX (after a pause). 
Choose you some other. 


BUTLER. 


What! art dastardly ? 
Thou, with full thirty lives to answer for — 
Thou conscientious of a sudden ? 


DEVEREUX. 
Nay, 
To assassinate our lord and general — 
MACDONALD. 
To whom we swore a soldier’s oath — 


BUTLER. 
The oath 
Is null, for Friedland is a traitor. 


DEVEREUX. 
No, no! it is too bad! 


MACDONALD. 
Yes, by my soul! 

It is too bad. One has a conscience too — 
DEVEREUX. 


If it were not our chieftain, who so long 
Has issued the commands, and claimed our duty — 


334 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 
Is that the objection ? 


DEVEREUX. 


Were it my own father, 
And the emperor’s service should demand it of me, 
It might be done perhaps — but we are soldiers, 
And to assassinate our chief commander, 
That is a sin, a foul abomination, 
From which no monk or confessor absolves us. 


BUTLER. 


I am your pope, and give you absolution. 
Determine quickly ! 
DEVEREUX. 


’T will not do. 


MACDONALD. 


*T won't do. 
BUTLER. 


Well, off then! and —send Pestalutz to me. 


DEVEREUX (hesitates). 


The Pestalutz — 
MACDONALD. 


What may you want with him ? 


BUTLER. 
If you reject it, we can find enough — 


DEVEREUX. 


Nay, if he must fall, we may earn the bounty 
As well as any other. What think you, 
Brother Macdonald ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 335 


MACDONALD. 


Why, if he must fall, 
And will fall, and it can’t be otherwise, 
One would not give place to this Pestalutz. 


DEVEREUX (after some reflection). 
When do you purpose he should fall ? 


BUTLER. 
This night. 
To-morrow will the Swedes be at our gates. 


DEVEREUX. 
You take upon you all the consequences ? 


BUTLER. 
I take the whole upon me. 


DEVEREUX. 
And it is 
The emperor’s will, his express absolute will ? 
For we have instances that folks may like 
The murder, and yet hang the murderer. 


BUTLER. 


The manifesto says — “alive or dead.” 
Alive — ’tis not possible — you see it is not. 


DEVEREUX. 


Well, dead then! dead! But how can we come at him ? 
The town is filled with Terzky’s soldiery. 


MACDONALD. 
Ay! and then Terzky still remains, and Nlo — 


336 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


BUTLER. 
With these you shall begin — you understand me ? 


DEVEREUX. 
How? And must they too perish ? 


BUTLER. 
They the first. 
MACDONALD. 


Hear, Devereux! A bloody evening this. 


DEVEREUX. 
Have you a man for that? Commission me — 


BUTLER. 


Tis given in trust to Major Geraldin ; 

This is a carnival night, and there’s a feast 

Given at the castle — there we shall surprise them, 
And hew them down. The Pestalutz and Lesley 
Have that commission. Soon as that is finished — 


DEVEREUX. 


Hear, general! It will be all one to you — 
Hark ye, let me exchange with Geraldin. 


BUTLER. 
"Twill be the lesser danger with the duke. 


DEVEREUX. 


Danger! The devil! What do you think me, general, 
"Tis the duke’s eye, and not his sword, I fear. 


BUTLER. 
What can his eye do to thee? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 337 


DEVEREUX. 


Death and hell ! 
Thou knowest that I’m no milksop, general ! 
But ’tis not eight days since the duke did send me 
Twenty gold pieces for this good warm coat 
Which I have on! and then for him to see me 
Standing before him with the pike, his murderer, 
That eye of his looking upon this coat — 
Why — why — the devil fetch me! I’m no milksop! 


BUTLER. 


The duke presented thee this good warm coat, 
And thou, a needy wight, hast pangs of conscience 
To run him through the body in return. 

A coat that is far better and far warmer 

Did the emperor give to him, the prince’s mantle. 
How doth he thank the emperor? With revolt 
And treason. 


DEVEREUX. 


That istrue. The devil take 
Such thankers! I despatch him. 


BUTLER. 
| And would’st quiet 
Thy conscience, thou hast naught to do but simply 
Pull off the coat; so canst thou do the deed 
With light heart and good spirits. 


DEVEREUX. 
You are right. 
That did not strike me. Il pull off the coat — 
So there’s an end of it. 


338 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


MACDONALD. 


Yes, but there’s another 
Point to be thought of. 


BUTLER. 
And what’s that, Macdonald ? 


MACDONALD. 


What avails sword or dagger against him ? 
He is not to be wounded — he is — 


BUTLER (starting up). 
What! 
MACDONALD. 
Safe against shot, and stab, and flash! Hard frozen, 


Secured and warranted by the black art! 
His body is impenetrable, I tell you. 


DEVEREUX. 


In Ingolstadt there was just such another: 
His whole skin was the same as steel; at last 
We were obliged to beat him down with gunstocks. 


MACDONALD. 


Hear what I'll do. 
DEVEREUX. 


Well? 


MACDONALD. 


In the cloister here 
There’s a Dominican, my countryman. 
Y’ll make him dip my sword and pike for me 
in holy water, and say over them 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 339 


One of his strongest blessings. That’s probatum ! 
Nothing can stand ’gainst that. 


BUTLER. 


So do, Macdonald ! 
But now go and select from out the regiment 
Twenty or thirty able-bodied fellows, 
And let them take the oaths to the emperor. 
Then when it strikes eleven, when the first rounds 
Are passed, conduct them silently as may be 
To the house. I will myself be not far off. 


DEVEREUX. 


But how do we get through Hartschier and Gordon, 
That stand on guard there in the inner chamber? 


BUTLER. 


I have made myself acquainted with the place, 

I lead you through a back door that’s defended 
By one man only. Me my rank and office 

Give access to the duke at every hour. 

Tl go before you — with one poniard-stroke 

Cut Hartschier’s windpipe, and make way for you. 


DEVEREUX. 


And when we are there, by what means shall we gain 
The duke’s bedchamber, without his alarming 

The servants of the court ? for he has here 

A numerous company of followers. 


BUTLER. 


The attendants fill the right wing: he hates bustle 
And lodges in the left wing quite alone. 


340 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


DEVEREUX. 


Were it well over — hey, Macdonald! I 
Feel queerly on the occasion, devil knows. 


MACDONALD. 


And I, too. ’Tis too great a personage. 
People will hold us for a brace of villains. 


BUTLER. 


In plenty, honour, splendour — you may safely 
Laugh at the people’s babble. 


DEVEREUX. 


If the business 
Squares with one’s honour — if that be quite certain. 


BUTLER. 


Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save for Ferdinand 
His crown and empire. The reward can be 
No small one. 


DEVEREUX. 
And ’tis his purpose to dethrone the emperor ? 


BUTLER. 
Yes! Yes! to rob him of his crown and life. 


DEVEREUX. 


And must he fall by the executioner’s hands, 
Should we deliver him up to the emperor 
Alive ? 

BUTLER. 


It were his certain destiny. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 341 


DEVEREUX. 


Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not 
Lie long in pain. 
[Hzeunt BUTLER through one door, MACDONALD and 
DEVEREUX through the other. 


Scene IIL 


A saloon, terminated by a gallery, which extends far 
unto the background. 


WALLENSTEIN sitting at a table. The SWEDISH CaAP- 
TAIN standing before him. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Commend me to your lord. I sympathise 

In his good fortune ; and if you have seen me 
Deficient in the expressions of that joy, 

Which such a victory might well demand, 
Attribute it to no lack of good will, 

For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell, 
And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow 
The citadel shall be surrendered to you 

On your arrival. 

[The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sits 
lost wn thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his 
head sustained by his hand. The COUNTESS 
TERZKY enters, stands before him for awhile, 
unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees 
her and recollects himself. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is 
she ? 


342 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 


My sister tells me she was more collected 
After her conversation with the Swede. 
She has now retired to rest. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The pang will soften, 
She will shed tears. 


COUNTESS. 


I find thee altered, too, 
My brother! After such a victory 
I had expected to have found in thee 
A cheerful spirit. Oh, remain thou firm! 
Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art, 
Our sun. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


Be quiet. Jail nothing. Where’s 
Thy husband ? 
COUNTESS. 


At a banquet — he and Illo. 


WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon). 
The night’s far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber. 


COUNTESS. 
Bid me not go, oh, let me stay with thee! 


WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window). 


There is a busy motion in the heaven, 
The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, 
Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle! of the moon, 


1 These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite 
felicity : 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 343 


Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light. 
No form of star is visible! That one 
White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, 
Is from Cassiopeia, and therein 
Is Jupiter. (A pause.) But now 
The blackness of the troubled element hides him! 
[He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks 
vacantly into the distance. 


COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his 
hand). 


What art thou brooding on ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Methinks 
If I but saw him, ’twould be well with me. 
He is the star of my nativity, 
And often marvellously hath his aspect 
Shot strength into my heart. 


COUNTESS. 


Thou lt see him again. 


‘¢‘ Am Himmel ist geschaftige Bewegung. 
Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht 
Der Wolken Zug, die Mondessichel wankt, 
Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle.’’ 


The word ‘‘ moon-sickle’’ reminds me of a passage in Harris, 
as quoted by Johnson, under the word ‘‘ falcated.’’ ‘* The enlight- 
ened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle or reaping- 
hook, which is while she is moving from the conjunction to 
the opposition, or from the new moon to the full: but from full 
to. a new again the enlightened part appears gibbous, and the dark 
Falcated.’’ 

The words ‘‘ wanken’’ and ‘‘schweben”’ are not easily trans- 
lated. The English words by which we attempt to render them 
are either vulgar or pedantic, or not of sufficiently general appli- 
cation. So ‘‘der Wolken Zug’? —the draft, the procession of 
clouds. The masses of the clouds sweep onward in swift 
stream. 


344 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN (remains for awhile with absent mind, 
then assumes a livelier manner, and turning sud- 
denly to the COUNTESS). 


See him again? Oh, never, never again ! 


COUNTESS. 
How ? 
WALLENSTEIN. 


He is gone — is dust. 


COUNTESS. 
Whom meanest thou, then ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finished ! 
For him there is no longer any future; 

His life is bright — bright without spot it was, 
And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour 
Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap, 

Far off is he, above desire and fear ; 

No more submitted to the change and chance 

Of the unsteady planets. Oh, ’tis well 

With him! but who knows what the coming hour 
Veiled in thick darkness brings us ? 


COUNTESS. 


Thou speakest 
Of Piccolomini. What was his death ? 
The courier had just left thee as I came. 
[ WALLENSTEIN by a motion of his hand makes signs 
to her to be svlent. 
Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, 
Let us look forward into sunny days, 
Welcome with joyous heart the victory, 
Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day, 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 345 


For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead ; 
To thee he died when first he parted from thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


This anguish will be wearied down, I know; 
What pang is permanent with man? From the highest, 
As from the vilest thing of every day, 

He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours 
Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost 

In him. The bloom is vanished from my hfe, 
For oh, he stood beside me, ike my youth, 
Transformed for me the real to a dream, 
Clothing the palpable and the familiar 

With golden exhalations of the dawn. 

Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, 

The beautiful is vanished — and returns not. 


COUNTESS. 


Oh, be not treacherous to thy own power. 

Thy heart is rich enough to vivify 

Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him, 
The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold. 


WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door). 


Who interrupts us now at this late hour ? 
It is the governor. He brings the keys 
Of the citadel. ’Tis midnight. Leave me, sister! 


1A very inadequate translation of the original : 


‘¢ Verschmerzen werd’ ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, 
Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch !”’ 
LITERALLY. 


‘¢T shall grieve down this blow, of that I’m conscious : 
What does not man grieve down ?”’ 


346 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 


Oh, ’tis so hard to me this night to leave thee; 
A boding fear possesses me ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Fear! Wherefore ? 


COUNTESS. 


Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking 
Never more find thee ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Fancies ! 


COUNTESS. 


Oh, my soul 
Has long been weighed down by these dark forebodings, 
And if I combat and repel them waking, 
They still crush down upon my heart in dreams. 
I saw thee, yesternight, with thy first wife 
Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


This was a dream of favourable omen, 
That marriage being the founder of my fortunes, 


COUNTESS. 


To-day I dreamed that I was seeking thee 

In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo! 

It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse 

At Gitschin ’twas, which thou thyself hast founded, 
And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be 
Interred. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Thy soul is busy with these thoughts. 


COUNTESS. 


What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams 
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


There is no doubt that there exist such voices, 
Yet I would not call them 

Voices of warning that announce to us 

Only the inevitable. As the sun, 

Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image 

In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits 

Of great events stride on before the events, 
And in to-day already walks to-morrow. 

That which we read of the fourth Henry’s death 
Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale 

Of my own future destiny. The king 

Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife 
Long ere Ravaillac armed himself therewith. 
His quiet mind forsook him; the phantasma 
Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth 
Into the open air; like funeral knells 

Sounded that coronation festival ; 

And still with boding sense he heard the tread 
Of those feet that even then were seeking him 
Throughout the streets of Paris. 


COUNTESS. 


And to thee 
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Nothing. 


Be wholly tranquil. 


347 


348 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


COUNTESS. 


And another time 
I hastened after thee, and thou rann’st from me 
Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall. 
There seemed no end of it; doors creaked and clapped ; 
I followed panting, but could not overtake thee ; 
When on a sudden did I feel myself 
Grasped from behind, — the hand was cold that grasped 

me ; 

"Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seemed 
A crimson covering to envelop us. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber. 


COUNTESS (gazing on him). 


If it should come to that —if I should see thee, 
Who standest now before me in the fulness 
Of life — [She falls on his breast and weeps. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


The emperor’s proclamation weighs upon thee — 
Alphabets wound not — and he finds no hands. 


COUNTESS. 
If he should find them, my resolve is taken — 


I bear about me my support and refuge. 
[Lait COUNTESS. 
ScENE IV. 


WALLENSTEIN, GORDON. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
All quiet in the town ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 349 


GORDON. 
The town is quiet. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


I hear a boisterous music! and the castle 
Is lighted up. Who are the revellers ? 


GORDON. 


There is a banquet given at the castle 
To the Count Terzky and Field-Marshal To. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


In honour of the victory — this tribe 
Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting. 
[Aings. The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER enters. 
Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep. 
[ WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON. 
So we are guarded from all enemies, 
And shut in with sure friends. 
For all must cheat me, or a face like this 
[Mixing his eyes on GORDON. 
Was ne’er a hypocrite’s mask. 
[Zhe GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his man- 
tle, collar, and scarf. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Take care — what is that ? 


GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. 
The golden chain is snapped in two. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Well, it has lasted long enough. Here — give it. 
[He takes and looks at the chain. 


350 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


"Twas the first present of the emperor. 

He hung it round me in the war of Friule, 
He being then archduke ; and I have worn it 
Till now from habit — 

From superstition, if you will. Belike, 

It was to be a talisman to me; 

And while I wore it on my neck in faith, 

It was to chain to me all my life long 

The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was. 
Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune 
Must spring up for me; for the potency 

Of this charm is dissolved. 

[GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vest- 
ments. WALLENSTEIN uses, takes a stride 
across the room, and stands at last before 
GORDON wn a posture of meditation. 

How the old time returns upon me! I 

Behold myself once more at Burgau, where 

We two were pages of the court together. 

We oftentimes disputed : thy intention 

Was ever good ; but thou wert wont to play 

The moralist and preacher, and wouldst rail at me — 
That I strove after things too high for me, 
Giving my faith to bold, unlawful dreams, 

And still extol to me the golden mean. 

Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend 
To thy own self. See, it has made thee early 

A superannuated man, and (but 

That my munificent stars will intervene) 

Would let thee in some miserable corner 

Go out like an untended lamp. 


GORDON. 
My prince! 
With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat, 


And watches from the shore the lofty ship 
Stranded amid the storm. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 351 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Art thou already 
In harbour, then, old man? Well! I am not. 
The unconquered spirit drives me o’er life’s billows; 
My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly. 
Hope is my goddess still, and youth my inmate; 
And while we stand thus front to front almost, 
I might presume to say, that the swift years 
Have passed by powerless o’er my unblanched hair. 
[He moves with long strides across the saloon, and 
remains on the opposite side over against 
GORDON. 
Who now persists in calling fortune false ? 
To me she has proved faithful ; with fond love 
Took me from out the common ranks of men, 
And, like a mother goddess, with strong arm 
Carried me swiftly up the steps of life. 
Nothing is common in my destiny, 
Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares 
Interpret then my life for me as ’twere 
One of the undistinguishable many ? 
True, in this present moment I appear 
Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again. 
The high flood will soon follow on this ebb ; 
The fountain of my fortune, which now stops, 
Repressed and bound by some malicious star, 
Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes. 


GORDON. 


And yet remember I the good old proverb, 
“Let the night come before we praise the day.” 
I would be slow from long-continued fortune 
To gather hope: for hope is the companion 
Given to the unfortunate by pitying heaven. 
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men, 
For still unsteady are the scales of fate. 


352 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


WALLENSTEIN (smiling). 


I hear the very Gordon that of old 
Was wont to preach, now once more preaching ; 
I know well, that all sublunary things 
Are still the vassals of vicissitude. 
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute. 
This long ago the ancient pagans knew : 
And therefore of their own accord they offered 
To themselves injuries, so to atone 
The jealousy of their divinities : 
And human sacrifices bled to Typhon. 
[After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued 
manner. 
I too have sacrificed to him — for me 
There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault 
He fell! No joy from favourable fortune 
Can overweigh the anguish of this stroke. 
The envy of my destiny is glutted : 
Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning 
Was drawn off which would else have shattered me. 


SCENE V. 
To these enter SENI. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Is not that Seni? and beside himself, 
If one can trust his looks? What brings thee hither 
At this late hour, Baptista ? 


SENI. 


Terror, duke ! 
On thy account. 
WALLENSTEIN. 


What now 2? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 353 


SENI. 


Flee ere the day break! 
Trust not thy person to the Swedes! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What now 
Is in thy thoughts ? 


SENI (with louder vovce). 
Trust not thy person to the Swedes. 


WALLENSTEIN. 
What is it, then ? 


SENI (stall more urgently). 


Oh, wait not the arrival of these Swedes! 

An evil near at hand is threatening thee 

From false friends. All the signs stand full of horror! 
Near, near at hand the network of perdition — 

Yea, even now ‘tis being cast around thee! 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Baptista, thou art dreaming ! — fear befools thee. 


SENI. 


Believe not that an empty fear deludes me. 
Come, read it in the planetary aspects ; 
Read it thyself, that ruin threatens thee 
From false friends. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


From the falseness of my friends 
Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes. 
The warning should have come before! At present 


354 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


I need no revelation from the stars 
To know that. 


SENI. 


Come and see! trust thine own eyes. 
A fearful sign stands in the house of life — 
An enemy ; a fiend lurks close behind 
The radiance of thy planet. Oh, be warned ! 
Deliver not up thyself to these heathens, 
To wage a war against our holy church. 


WALLENSTEIN (laughing gently). 


The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now 
I recollect. This junction with the Swedes 
Did never please thee — lay thyself to sleep, 
Baptista! Signs lke these I do not fear. 


GORDON (who during the whole of this dialogue has 
shown marks of extreme agitation, and now turns 
to WALLENSTEIN ). 


My duke and general! May I dare presume ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 
Speak freely. 


GORDON. 


What if ’twere no mere creation 
Of fear, if God’s high providence vouchsafed 
To interpose its aid for your deliverance, 
And made that mouth its organ ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Ye’re both feverish ! 
How can mishap come to me from the Swedes ? 
They sought this junction with me —’tis their interest. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 355 


GORDON (with difficulty suppressing his emotion). 


But what if the arrival of these Swedes — 
What if this were the very thing that winged 
The ruin that is flying to your temples ? 

[Flings himself at his feet. 
There is yet time, my prince. 

SENI. | 
Oh, hear him! hear him! 
GORDON (rises). . 


The Rhinegrave’s still far off. Give but the orders, 
This citadel shall close its gates upon him. 

If then he will besiege us, let him try it. 

But this I say: he'll find his own destruction, 
With his whole force before these ramparts, sooner 
Than weary down the valour of our spirit. 

He shall experience what a band of heroes, 
Inspirited by an heroic leader, 

Is able to perform. And if indeed 

It be thy serious wish to make amend 

For that which thou hast done amiss, — this, this 
Will touch and reconcile the emperor, 

Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy ; 
And Friedland, who returns repentant to him, 
Will stand yet higher in his emperor’s favour 
Than e’er he stood when he had never fallen. 


WALLENSTEIN (contemplates him with surprise, remains 
silent awhile, betraying strong emotion). 


Gordon — your zeal and fervour lead you far. 
Well, well —an old friend has a privilege. 
Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never 
Can the emperor pardon me: and if he could, 
Yet I— I ne’er could let myself be pardoned. 
Had I foreknown what now has taken place, 
That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me, 


356 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


My first death offering; and had the heart 

Spoken to me, as now it has done — Gordon, 

It may be, I might have bethought myself. 

It may be, too, I might not. Might or might not 

Is now an idle question. All too seriously 

Has it begun to end in nothing, Gordon! 

Let it then have its course. [Stepping to the window. 
All dark and silent — at the castle too 

All is now hushed. Light me, chamberlain! 

[Zhe GROOM OF THE CHAMBER, who had entered 
during the last dialogue, and had been stand- 
ing at a distance and listening to it with 
visible expressions of the deepest interest, 
advances wn extreme agitation and throws 
himself at the DUKE®’S feet. 

And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish 
My reconcilement with the emperor. 

Poor man! he hath a small estate in Carinthia, 
And fears it will be forfeited because 

He’s in my service. Am I then so poor 

That Ino longer can indemnify 

My servants? Well! to no one I employ 

Means of compulsion. If ’tis thy belief 

That fortune has fled from me, go! forsake me. 
This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me, 
And then go over to the emperor. 

Gordon, good night! I think to make a long 
Sleep of it: for the struggle and the turmoil 

Of this last day or two was great. May’t please you! 
Take care that they awake me not too early. 

[Lait WALLENSTEIN, the GROOM OF THE CHAMBER 
lighting him. SENI follows, GORDON remains 
on the darkened stage, following the DUKE 
with his eye, till he disappears at the further 
end of the gallery: then by his gestures the 
old man expresses the depth of his anguish, 
and stands leaning against a pillar. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 357 


ScENE VI. 
GORDON, BUTLER (at jirst behind the scenes). 


BUTLER (not yet come into view of the stage). 
Here stand in silence till I give the signal. 


GORDON (starts wp). 
"Tis he! he has already brought the murderers. 


BUTLER. 
The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep. 


GORDON. 


What shall I do? shall I attempt to save him ? 
Shall I call up the house? alarm the guards ? 


BUTLER (appears, but scarcely on the stage). 


A light gleams hither from the corridor. 
It leads directly to the duke’s bedchamber. 


GORDON. 


But then I break my oath to the emperor ; 
If he escape and strengthen the enemy, 
Do I not hereby call down on my head 
All the dread consequences ? 


BUTLER (stepping forward). 
Hark! Who speaks there ? 


GORDON. 


’Tis better, I resign it to the hands 
Of Providence. For what am I, that I 


358 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Should take upon myself so great a deed ? 

I have not murdered him, if he be murdered ; 
But all his rescue were my act and deed ; 
Mine — and whatever be the consequences 

I must sustain them. 


BUTLER (advances). 


I should know that voice. 


GORDON. 
Butler 


BUTLER. 


"Tis Gordon. What do you want here ? 
Was it so late, then, when the duke dismissed you ? 


GORDON. 


Your hand bound up and in a scarf ? 


BUTLER. 
"Tis wounded. 
That Ilo fought as he were frantic, till 
At last we threw him on the ground. 


GORDON (shuddering). 
Both dead ? 


BUTLER. 
Is he in bed ? 


GORDON. 
Ah, Butler! 


BUTLER. 
Is he? speak. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 359 


GORDON. 


He shall not perish! Not through you! The heaven 
Refuses your arm. See —’tis wounded! 


BUTLER. 
There is no need of my arm. 


GORDON. 


The most guilty 
Have perished, and enough is given to justice. 

[ The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER advances from the 
gallery with his finger on his mouth com- 
manding silence. 

GORDON. 


He sleeps! Oh, murder not the holy sleep! 


BUTLER. 
No! he shall die awake. [Is going. 


GORDON. 


His heart still cleaves 
To earthly things: he’s not prepared to step 
Into the presence of his God! 


BUTLER (going). 
God’s merciful ! 


GORDON (holds him). 
Grant him but this night’s respite. 


BUTLER (hurrying off ). 
The next moment 
May ruin all. 


360 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


GORDON (holds him sitll). 
One hour ! — 


BUTLER. 


Unhold me! What 
Can that short respite profit him ? 


GORDON. 

Oh, time 
Works miracles. In one hour many thousands 
Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they 
Thought follows thought within the human soul. 
Only one hour! Your heart may change its purpose, 
His heart may change its purpose — some new tidings 
May come; some fortunate event, decisive, 
May fall from heaven and rescue him. Oh, what 
May not one hour achieve ! 


BUTLER. 


You but remind me 
How precious every minute is! 
[He stamps on the floor. 


ScENE VIL. 


To these enter MACDONALD and DEVEREUX with the 
HALBERDIERS. 


GORDON (throwing himself between him and them). 


No, monster ! 
First over my dead body thou shalt tread. 
I will not live to see the accursed deed ! 


BUTLER (forcing him out of the way). 


Weak-hearted dotard ! 
[Trumpets are heard in the distance. 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 361 


DEVEREUX and MACDONALD. 


Hark! The Swedish trumpets! 
The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten! 


GORDON (rushes out). 
Oh, God of mercy ! 


BUTLER (calling after him). 
Governor, to your post! 


GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (hurries 1). 


Who dares make larum here? Hush! The duke 
sleeps. 


DEVEREUX (with loud, harsh voice). 


Friend, it is time now to make larum. 


GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. 


Help! 
Murder! : 
BUTLER. 


Down with him ! 


GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (run through the body by 
DEVEREUX, falls at the entrance of the gallery). 


Jesus Maria! 


BUTLER. 


Burst the doors open. 
[They rush over the body into the gallery — two 
doors are heard to crash one after the other. 
Voices, deadened by the distance — clash of 
arms — then all at once a profound silence. 


362 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


SceNE VIII. 


COUNTESS TERZKY (with a light). 


Her bedchamber is empty; she herself 

Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too, 
Who watched by her, is missing. If she should 
Be flown — but whither flown? We must call up 
Every soul in the house. How will the duke 
Bear up against these worst bad tidings? Oh, 

If that my husband now were but returned 

Home from the banquet! Hark! I wonder whether 
The duke is still awake! I thought I heard 
Voices and tread of feet here! I will go 

And listen at the door. Hark! what is that ? 

"Tis hastening up the steps! 


SCENE IX. 
COUNTESS, GORDON. 


GORDON (rushes in out of breath). 


"Tis a mistake ! 
'Tis not the Swedes; ye must proceed no further — 
Butler! Ob, God! where is he ? 
[ Observing the COUNTESS. 
Countess! Say — 


COUNTESS. 


You are come, then, from the castle? Where’s my 
husband ? 


GORDON (i an agony of affright). 
Your husband! Ask not! To the duke — 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 363 


COUNTESS. 
Not till 
You have discovered to me — 


GORDON. 


On this moment 
Does the world hang. For God’s sake! to the duke. 
While we are speaking — [ Calling loudly. 
Butler! Butler! God! 


COUNTESS. 


Why, he is at the castle with my husband. 
[BuTLER comes from the gallery. 


GORDON. 


"Twas a mistake. ‘Tis not the Swedes — it is 
The imperialists’ lieutenant-general 

Has sent me hither — will be here himself 
Instantly. You must not proceed. 


BUTLER. 
He comes 
Too late. [GorDoNn dashes himself against the wall. 
GORDON. 


Oh, God of mercy ! 


COUNTESS. 


What, too late ? 
Who will be here himself? Octavio 
In Egra? Treason! Treason! Where’s the duke? 
[She rushes to the gallery. 


364 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


SCENE X. 


Servants run across the stage full of terror. The whole 
scene must be spoken entirely without pauses. 


SENI (from the gallery). 
Oh, bloody, frightful deed ! 


COUNTESS. 
What is it, Seni ? 


PAGE (from the gallery). 


Oh, piteous sight! 
[ Other servants hasten in with torches. 


COUNTESS. 
What is it? For God’s sake! 


SENI. 


And do you ask ? 
Within the duke lies murdered — and your husband 
Assassinated at the castle. 
[Zhe CouNTEssS stands mottonless. 


FEMALE SERVANT (rushing across the stage). 
Help! help! the duchess! 


BURGOMASTER (enters). 


What mean these confused 
Loud cries that wake the sleepers of this house ? 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 365 


GORDON. 


Your house is cursed to all eternity. 
In your house doth the duke le murdered ! 


BURGOMASTER (rushing out). 
Heaven forbid ! 
FIRST SERVANT. 
Fly! fly! they murder us all! 


SECOND SERVANT (carrying silver plate). 


That way! the lower 
Passages are blocked up. 


VOICE (from behind the scene). 


Make room for the lieutenant-general ! 
[At these words the COUNTESS starts from her stu- 
por, collects herself, and retires suddenly. 


VOICE (from behind the scene). 
Keep back the people! Guard the door! 


ScENE XI. 


To these enter OcTAVIO PICCOLOMINI with all his train. 
At the same time DEVEREUX and MACDONALD 
enter from out the corridor with the HALBERDIERS. 
WALLENSTEIN’S dead body 1s carried over the back 


part of the stage, wrapped in a prece of crimson 
tapestry. 


OCTAVIO (entering abruptly). 


It must not be! It is not possible! 
Butler! Gordon ! 


366 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Tl not believe it. Say no! 

GoRDON, without answering, points with his hand 
to the body of WALLENSTEIN as it 1s car- 
ried over the back of the stage. OCTAVIO 
looks that way, and stands overpowered with 
horror. 


DEVEREUX (to BUTLER). 
Here is the golden fleece — the duke’s sword — 


MACDONALD. 
Is it your order — 


BUTLER ( pointing to OCTAVIO). 


Here stands he who now 
Hath the whole power to issue orders. 

[DEVEREUX and MACDONALD retire with marks 
of obersance. One drops away after the other, 
till only BUTLER, OCTAVIO, and GORDON re- 
man on the stage. 


OCTAVIO (turning to BUTLER). 


Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted ? 
Oh, God of Justice! 
To Thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty 
Of this foul deed. 
BUTLER. 


Your hand is pure. You have 
Availed yourself of mine. 


OCTAVIO. 


Merciless man ! 
Thus to abuse the orders of thy lord — 
And stain thy emperor’s holy name with murder, 
With bloody, most accursed assassination ! 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 367 


BUTLER (calmly). 
I’ve but fulfilled the emperor’s own sentence. 


OCTAVIO. 


Oh, curse of kings, 

Infusing a dread life into their words, 

And linking to the sudden, transient thought 
The unchanging, irrevocable deed. 

Was there necessity for such an eager 
Despatch? Couldst thou not grant the merciful 
A time for mercy? Time is man’s good angel. 
To leave no interval between the sentence, 

And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem 

God only, the immutable ! 


BUTLER. 


For what 
Rail you against me? What is my offence ? 
The empire from a fearful enemy 
Have I delivered, and expect reward. 
The single difference betwixt you and me 
Is this: you placed the arrow in the bow; 
I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet stand 
Astonished that blood is come up. I always 
Knew what I did, and therefore no result 
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit. 
Have you aught else to order? for this instant 
I make my best speed to Vienna; place 
My bleeding sword before my emperor’s throne, 
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying 
And punctual obedience may demand 
From a just judge. [ Hait BUTLER. 


368 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


ScENE XII. 


To these enter the COUNTESS TERZKY, pale and disordered. 
Her utterance ts slow and feeble, and unimpassioned. 


OCTAVIO (meeting her). 


Oh, Countess Terzky! These are the results 
Of luckless, unblest deeds. 


COUNTESS. 


They are the fruits 
Of your contrivances. The duke is dead, 
My husband too is dead, the duchess struggles | 
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared ; 
This house of splendour, and of princely glory, 
Doth now stand desolated : the affrighted servants 
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last 
Therein: I shut it up, and here deliver 
The keys. 


OCTAVIO (with a deep anguish). 
Oh, countess! my house, too, is desolate. 


COUNTESS. 


Who next is to be murdered? Who is next 
To be maltreated? Lo! the duke is dead. 
The emperor’s vengeance may be pacified ! 
Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity 
Be imputed to the faithful as a crime — 
The evil destiny surprised my brother 

Too suddenly: he could not think on them. 


OCTAVIO. 


Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment ! 
The emperor is appeased ; the heavy fault 


THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 369 


Hath heavily been expiated — nothing 
Descended from the father to the daughter, 
Except his glory and his services. 

The empress honours your adversity, 

Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you 

Her motherly arms. Therefore no further fears. 
Yield yourself up in hope and confidence 

To the imperial grace! 


COUNTESS (with her eye raised to heaven). 


To the grace and mercy of a greater master 

Do I yield up myself. Where shall the body 

Of the duke have its place of final rest ? 

In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found 

At Gitschin, rests the Countess Wallenstein ; 

And by her side, to whom he was indebted 

For his first fortunes, gratefully he wished 

He might sometime repose in death! Oh, let him 
Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband’s 
Remains I ask the like grace. The emperor 

Is now the proprietor of all our castles ; 

This sure may well be granted us — one sepulchre 
Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers! 


OCTAVIO. 
Countess, you tremble, you turn pale! 


COUNTESS (reassembles all her powers, and speaks with 
energy and dignity). 


You think 
More worthily of me than to believe 
I would survive the downfall of my house. 
We did not hold ourselves too mean to grasp 
After a monarch’s crown — the crown did fate 
Deny, but not the feeling and the spirit 
That to the crown belong! We deem a 


370 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 


Courageous death more worthy of our free station 
Than a dishonoured life. I have taken poison. 


OCTAVIO. 
Help! Help! Support her! 


COUNTESS. 


Nay, it is too late. 
In a few moments is my fate accomplished. 
[Lait COUNTESS. 


GORDON. 


Oh, house of death and horrors! 

[An OFFICER enters, and brings a letter with the 
great seal. GORDON steps forward and meets 
him. 

What is this! 
It is the imperial seal. 

[He reads the address, and delwers the letter to 
OcTAvio with a look of reproach, and with 
an emphasis on the word. 

To the Prince Piccolomini. 

[OcTAVIO, with his whole frame expressive of sudden 

anguish, raises his eyes to heaven. 


(The curtain drops.) 


Preface 


“THE Camp of Wallenstein,” by its vivid portraiture 
of the state of the general’s army, gives the best clue to 
the spell of his gigantic power. The blind belief enter- 
tained in the unfailing success of his arms, and in the 
supernatural agencies by which that success is secured 
to him; the unrestrained indulgence of every passion, 
and utter disregard of all law, save that of the camp; 
a hard oppression of the peasantry and plunder of the 
country, have all swollen the soldiery with an idea of 
interminable sway. But as we have translated the 
whole, we shall leave these reckless marauders to speak 
for themselves. 

Of Schiller’s opinion concerning the “Camp,” as a 
necessary introduction to the tragedy, the following 
passage, taken from the prologue to the first representa- 
tion, will give a just idea, and may also serve as a 
motto to the work: 


‘‘ Not he it is, who on the tragic scene 
Will now appear — but in the fearless bands 
Whom his command alone could sway, and whom 
His spirit fired, you may his shadow see, 
Until the bashful Muse shall dare to bring 
Himself before you in a living form; 
For power it was that bore his heart astray. 
His ‘Camp,’ alone, elucidates his crime.” 


373 


DRAMATIS PERSON At 


SERGEANT- MaJor, \ of a regiment of Terzky’s carabineers. 
TRUMPETER, 

ARTILLERYMAN. 

SHARPSHOOTERS. 

Mountep YaGeErs, of Holk’s corps. 
Dracoons, of Butler’s regiment. 
ARQUEBUSIERS, of Tiefenbach’s regiment. 
CuIRASSIER, of a Walloon regiment. 
CurrASsIER, of a Lombard regiment. 
CROATS. 

HULANS. 

RECRUIT. 

CITIZEN. 

PEASANT. 

PEASANT Boy. 

CAPUCHIN. 

REGIMENTAL SCHOOLMASTER. 
SUTLER - WOMAN. 

SERVANT - GIRL. 

SoLpDIER Boys. 

MusIcIANS. 


SCENE. — The Camp before Pilsen in Bohemia. 


ee 


Wallenstein’s Camp 
ScENE LI. 


Sutlers’ tents —in front, a Slop-shop. Soldiers of all 
colours and uniforms thronging about. Tables all 
filled. Croats and Hulans cooking at a fire. Sut- 
ler-woman serving out wine. Soldier-boys throw- 
ing dice on a drum-head. Singing heard from the 
tent. 


Enter a Peasant and his Son. 


SON. 


Father, I fear it will come to harm, 

So let us be off from this soldier swarm ; 

But boist’rous mates will ye find in the shoal — 
’*T were better to bolt while our skins are whole. 


FATHER. 


How now, boy! the fellows won’t eat us, though 
They may be a little unruly or so. 

See, yonder, arriving a stranger train, 

Fresh comers are they from the Saal and Mayne; 
Much booty they bring of the rarest sort — 

"Tis ours, if we cleverly drive our sport. 

A captain, who fell by his comrade’s sword, 

This pair of sure dice to me transferred ; 

To-day Dll just give them a trial to see 


325 


376 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


If their knack’s as good as it used to be. 

You must play the part of a pitiful devil, 

For these roaring rogues, who so loosely revel, 

Are easily smoothed, and tricked, and flattered, 

And, free as it came, their gold is scattered. 

But we — since by bushels our all is taken, 

By spoonfuls must ladle it back again ; 

And, if with their swords they slash so highly, 

We must look sharp, boy, and do them slyly. 
[Singing and shouting wn the tent. 

Hark, how they shout! God help the day! 

‘Tis the peasant’s hide for their sport must pay. 

Eight months in our beds and stalls have they 

Been swarming here, until far around 

Not a bird or a beast is longer found, 

And the peasant, to quiet his craving maw, 

Has nothing now left but his bones to gnaw. 

Ne’er were we crushed with a heavier hand, 

When the Saxon was lording it o’er the land: 

And these are the emperor’s troops, they say! 


SON. 


From the kitchen a couple are coming this way, 
Not much shall we make by such blades as they. 


FATHER. 


They’re born Bohemian knaves — the two — 
Belonging to Terzky’s carabineers, 

Who've lain in these quarters now for years; 
The worst are they of the worthless crew. 
Strutting, swaggering, proud and vain, 

They seem to think they may well disdain 
With the peasant a glass of his wine to drain. 
But, soft — to the left o’ the fire I see 

Three riflemen, who from the Tyrol should be. 
Emmerick, come, boy, to them will we. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 377 


Birds of this feather ’tis luck to find, 
Whose trim’s so spruce, and their purse well lined. 
[They move toward the tent. 


ScENE II. 


The above. Sergeant-Major, Trumpeter, Hulan. 


TRUMPETER. 
What would the boor? Out, rascal, away ! 


PEASANT. 


Some victuals and drink, worthy masters, I pray, 
For not a warm morsel we’ve tasted to-day. 


TRUMPETER. 
Ay, guzzle and guttle —’tis always the way. 


HULAN (with a glass). 


Not broken your fast! there — drink, ye hound! 
[He leads the peasant to the tent — the others come 
Sorward. 


SERGEANT (to the Trumpeter). 


Think ye they’ve done it without good ground ? 
Is it likely they double our pay to-day, 
Merely that we may be jolly and gay ? 


TRUMPETER. 


Why, the duchess arrives to-day, we know, 
And her daughter too — 


378 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SERGEANT. 


Tush! that’s mere show — 
’Tis the troops collected from other lands 
Who here at Pilsen have joined our bands — 
We must do the best we can t’ allure ’em, 
With plentiful rations, and thus secure ’em, 
Where such abundant fare they find, 
A closer league with us to bind. 


TRUMPETER. 
Yes !— there’s something in the wind. 


SERGEANT. 


The generals and commanders too — 


TRUMPETER. 


A rather ominous sight, ’tis true. 


SERGEANT. 
Who’'re met together so thickly here — 


TRUMPETER. 
Have plenty of work on their hands, that’s clear. 


SERGEANT. 
The whispering and sending to and fro— 


TRUMPETER. 
Ay! Ay! 
SERGEANT. 


The big-wig from Vienna, I trow, 

Who since yesterday’s seen to prowl about 
In his golden chain of office there — 
Something’s at the bottom of this, I'll swear 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 379 


TRUMPETER. 


A bloodhound is he beyond a doubt, 
By whom the duke’s to be hunted out. 


SERGEANT. 


Mark ye well, man!— they doubt us now, 
And they fear the duke’s mysterious brow ; 
He hath clomb too high for them, and fain 
Would they beat. him down from his perch again. 


TRUMPETER. 


But we will hold him still on high — 
That all would think as you and [! 


SERGEANT. 


Our regiment, and the other four 

Which Terzky leads — the bravest corps 
Throughout the camp, are the general’s own, 

And have been trained to the trade by himself alone. 
The officers hold their command of him, 

And are all his own, or for life or limb. 


ScENE IIT. 


Enter Croat with a necklace. Sharpshooter following 
him. The above. 


SHARPSHOOTER. 


Croat, where stole you that necklace, say ? 
Get rid of it, man — for thee ’tis unmeet: 
Come, take these pistols in change, I pray. 


CROAT. 
Nay, nay, Master Shooter, you’re trying to cheat. 


380 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SHARPSHOOTER. 


Then I'll give you this fine blue cap as well, 
A lottery prize which just I’ve won: 
Look at the cut of it — quite the swell! 


CROAT (twirling the necklace in the sun). 


But this is of pearls and of garnets bright, 
See, how it plays in the sunny light! 


SHARPSHOOTER (taking the necklace). 


Well, I'll give you to boot, my own canteen — 
I’m in love with this bauble’s beautiful sheen. 
[Looks at rt. 


TRUMPETER. 


See, now !— how cleanly the Croat is done: 
Snacks! Master Shooter, and mwm’s the word. 


CROAT (having put on the cap). 
I think your cap is a smartish one. 


SHARPSHOOTER (winking to the T'rwmpeter). 
"Tis a regular swop, as these gents have heard. 


SCENE IV. 
The above. An Artilleryman. 


ARTILLERYMAN (to the Sergeant). 


How is this, I pray, brother carabineer ? 
Shall we longer stay here, our fingers warming, 
While the foe in the field around is swarming ? 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 381 


SERGEANT. 


Art thou, indeed, in such hasty fret ? 
Why, the roads, as I think, are scarce passable yet. 


ARTILLERYMAN. 


For me they are not — I’m snug enough here — 
But a courier’s come, our wits to waken 
With the precious news that Ratisbon’s taken. 


TRUMPETER. 
Ha! then we soon shall have work in hand. 


SERGEANT. 


Indeed ! to protect the Bavarian’s land, 
Who hates the duke, as we understand, 
We won't put ourseives in a violent sweat. 


ARTILLERYMAN. 
Heyday ! — you'll find you're a wiseacre yet. 


SCENE V. 


The above. Two Yagers. Afterward Sutler-woman, 
Soldter-boy, Schoolmaster, Servant-girl. 


FIRST YAGER. | 
See! See! 
Here meet we a jovial company ! 


TRUMPETER. 


Who can these greencoats be, I wonder, 
That strut so gay and sprucely yonder! 


382 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SERGEANT. 


-They’re the Yagers of Holk —and the lace they wear, 
Tll be sworn, was ne’er purchased at Leipzig fair. 


SUTLER - WOMAN (bringing wine). 
Welcome, good sirs! 


FIRST YAGER. 


Zounds, how now! 
Gustel of Blasewitz here, I vow! 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


The same in sooth —and you, I know, 

Are the lanky Peter of Itzeho: 

Who at Gluckstadt once, in revelling night, 

With the wags of our regiment, put to flight 

All his father’s shiners — then crowned the fun — 


FIRST YAGER. 
By changing his pen for a rifle-gun. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
We're old acquaintance, then, ’tis clear. 


FIRST YAGER. 
And to think we should meet in Bohemia here! 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


Oh, here to-day — to-morrow yonder — 

As the rude war-broom, in restless trace, 

Scatters and sweeps us from place to place. 
Meanwhile I’ve been doomed far round to wander. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 
So one would think, by the look of your face. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


Up the country I’ve rambled to Temsewar, 
Whither I went with the baggage-car, 
When Mansfeld before us we chased away ; 
With the duke near Stralsund next we lay, 
Where trade went all to pot, I may say. 

I jogged with the succours to Mantua ; 
And back again came, under Feria: 

Then, joing a Spanish regiment, 

I took a short cut across to Ghent ; 

And now to Bohemia I’m come to get 

Old scores paid off, that are standing yet, 
If a helping hand by the duke be lent — 
And yonder you see my sutler’s tent. 


FIRST YAGER. 


Well, all things seem in a flourishing way, 
But what have you done with the Scotchman, say, 
Who once in the camp was your constant flame ? 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


A villain, who tricked me clean, that same. 
He bolted, and took to himself whate’er 
I'd managed to scrape together, or spare, 
Leaving me naught but the urchin there. 


SOLDIER - BOY (springing forward). 
Mother, is it my papa you name? 


FIRST YAGER. 


Well, the emperor now must father this elf, 
For the army must ever recruit itself. 


383 


384 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SCHOOLMASTER. 
Forth to the school, ye rogue — d’ye hear ? 


FIRST YAGER. 
He, too, of a narrow room has fear. 


SERVANT GIRL (entering). 
Aunt, they'll be off. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


IT come apace. 


FIRST YAGER. 
What gypsy is that with the roguish face ? 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
My sister’s child from the south, is she. 


FIRST YAGER. 
Ay, ay, a sweet little niece — I see. 


SECOND YAGER (holding the girl). 
Softly, my pretty one! stay with me. 


GIRL. 


The customers wait, sir, and I must go. 
[Disengages herself, and exit. 


FIRST YAGER. 


That maiden’s a dainty morsel, I trow! 

And her aunt — by heaven! I mind me well, 
When the best of the regiment loved her so, 
To blows for her beautiful face they fell. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 385 


What different folks one’s doomed to know ! 
How time glows off with a ceaseless flow ! 
And what sights as yet we may live to see! 
[Zo the Sergeant and Trumpever. 
Your health, good sirs, may we be free, 
A seat beside you here to take ? 


Scene VI. 
The Yagers, Sergeant, and Trumpeter. 


SERGEANT. 


We thank ye —and room will gladly make. 
To Bohemia welcome. 


FIRST YAGER. 


Snug enough here! 
In the land of the foe our quarters were queer. 


TRUMPETER. 
You haven’t the look on’t — you're spruce to view. 


SERGEANT. 


Ay, faith, on the Saal, and in Meissen, too, 
Your praises are heard from the lips of few. 


SECOND YAGER. 


Tush, man! why, what the plague d’ye mean ? 
The Croat had swept the fields so clean, 
There was little or nothing for us to glean. 


TRUMPETER. 


Yet your pointed collar is clean and sightly, 
And, then, your hose that sit so tightly! 


386 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


Your linen so fine, with the hat and feather, 
Make a show of smartness altogether ! 
[Zo Sergeant. 
That fortune should upon younkers shine — 
While nothing in your way comes, or mine. 


SERGEANT. 


But then we're the Friedlander’s regiment 
And, thus, may honour and homage claim. 


FIRST YAGER. 


For us, now, that’s no great compliment, 
We, also, bear the Friedlander’s name. 


SERGEANT. 
True —- you form part of the general mass. 


FIRST YAGER. 


And you, I suppose, are a separate class! 
The difference lies in the coats we wear, 
And I have no wish to change with you there! 


SERGEANT. 


Sir Yager, I can’t but with pity melt, 

When I think how much among boors you’ve dwelt. 
The clever knack and the proper tone 

Are caught by the general’s side alone. 


FIRST YAGER. 


Then the lesson is wofully thrown away, — 
How he hawks and spits, indeed, I may say 
You’ve copied and caught in the cleverest way ; 
But his spirit, his genius — oh, these, I ween, 
On your guard parade are but seldom seen. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SECOND YAGER. 


Why, zounds! ask for us wherever you will, 
Friedland’s wild hunt is our title still! 

Never shaming the name, all undaunted we go 
Alike through the field of a friend or a foe; 
Through the rising stalk, or the yellow corn, 
Well know they the blast of Holk’s Yager horn. 
In the flash of an eye, we are far or near, 

Swift as the deluge, or there or here — 

As at midnight dark, when the flames outbreak 
In the silent dwelling where none awake ; 

Vain is the hope in weapons or flight, 

Nor order nor discipline thwart its might. 

Then struggles the maid in our sinewy arms, 
But war hath no pity, and scorns alarms. 

Go, ask — I speak not with boastful tongue — 
In Bayreuth, Westphalia, Voigtland, where’er 
Our troops have traversed — go, ask them there — 
Children and children’s children long, 

When hundreds and hundreds of years are o’er, 
Of Holk will tell and his Yager corps. 


SERGEANT. 


Why, hark! Must a soldier then be made 

By driving this riotous, roaring trade! 

Tis drilling that makes him, skill and sense — 
Perception — thought — intelligence. 


FIRST YAGER. 


"Tis liberty makes him! Here’s a fuss! 

That I should such twaddle as this discuss. 
Was it for this that I left the school ? 

That the scribbling desk, and the slavish rule, 
And the narrow walls, that our spirits cramp, 


387 


Should be met with again in the midst of the camp? 


No! Idle and heedless, Pll take my way, 


388 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


Hunting for novelty every day ; 

Trust to the moment with dauntless mind, 
And give not a glance or before or behind. 
For this to the emperor I sold my hide, 

That no other care I might have to bide. 
Through the foe’s fierce firing bid me ride, 
Through fathomless Rhine, in his roaring flow, 
Where evry third man to the devil may go, 
At no bar will you find me boggling there ; 
But, farther than this, ’tis my special prayer, 
That I may not be bothered with aught like care. 


SERGEANT. 


If this be your wish, you needn’t lack it, 
’Tis granted to all with the soldier’s jacket. 


FIRST YAGER. 


What a fuss and a bother, forsooth, was made 

By that man-tormentor, Gustavus, the Swede, 
Whose camp was a church, where prayers were said 
At morning réveille and evening tattoo ; 

And, whenever it chanced that we frisky grew, 

A sermon himself from the saddle he’d read. 


SERGEANT. 
Ay, that was a man with the fear of God. 


FIRST YAGER. 


Girls he detested ; and what’s rather odd, 
If caught with a wench you in wedlock were tacked, — 
I could stand it no longer, so off I packed. 


SERGEANT. 
Their discipline now has a trifle slacked. 


et ee ee 


ee 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 


Well, next to the League I rode over; their men 
Were mustering in haste against Magdeburg then. 
Ha! that was another guess sort of a thing! 

In frolic and fun we'd a glorious swing ; 

With gaming, and drinking, and girls at call, 

I faith, sirs, our sport was by no means small. 
For Tilly knew how to command, that’s plain ; 
He held himself in but gave us the rein; 

And, long as he hadn’t the bother of paying, 
“Live and let live!” was the general’s saying. 
But fortune soon gave him the slip; and ne’er 
Since the day of that villainous Leipzig affair 
Would aught go aright. °*Twas of little avail 
That we tried, for our plans were sure to fail. 

If now we drew nigh and rapped at the door, 

No greeting awaited, ’twas opened no more; 
From place to place we went sneaking about, 
And found that their stock of respect was out ; 
Then touched I the Saxon bounty, and thought 
Their service with fortune must needs be fraught. 


SERGEANT. 


You joined them then just in the nick to share 
Bohemia’s plunder ? 


FIRST YAGER. 


Td small luck there. 
Strict discipline sternly ruled the day, 
Nor dared we a foeman’s force display ; 
They set us to guard the imperial forts, 
And plagued us all with the farce of the courts. 
War they waged as a jest ’twere thought — 
And but half a heart to the business brought, 
They would break with none; and thus ’twas plain 
Small honour among them could a soldier gain. 


389 


390 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


So heartily sick in the end grew I 

That my mind was the desk again to try; 
When suddenly, rattling near and far, 
The Friedlander’s drum*was heard to war. 


SERGEANT. 
And how long here may you mean to stay ? 


FIRST YAGER. 


You jest, man. So long as he bears the sway, 
By my soul! not a thought of change have I; 
Where better than here could the soldier lie ? 
Here the true fashion of war is found, 

And the cut of power’s on all things round ; 
While the spirit whereby the movement’s given 
Mightily stirs, like the winds of heaven, 

The meanest trooper in all the throng, 

With a hearty step shall I tramp along, 

On a burgher’s neck as undaunted tread 

As our general does on the prince’s head. 

As twas in the times of old ’tis now, 

The sword is the sceptre, and all must bow. 
One crime alone can I understand, 

And that’s to oppose the word of command. 
What’s not forbidden to do make bold, 

And none will ask you what creed you hold. 
Of just two things in this world I wot, 

What belongs to the army and what does not, 
To the banner alone is my service brought. 


SERGEANT. 


Thus, Yager, I like thee — thou speakest, I vow, 
With the tone of a Friedland trooper now. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 391 


FIRST YAGER. 


Tis not as an office he holds command, 

Or a power received from the emperor’s hand ; 
For the emperor’s service what should he care, 
What better for him does the emperor fare ? 
With the mighty power he wields at will, 
Has ever he sheltered the land from ill ? 

No; a soldier-kingdom he seeks to raise, 

And for this would set the world in a blaze, 
Daring to risk and to compass all — 


TRUMPETER. 
Hush — who shall such words as these let fall ? 


FIRST YAGER. 


Whatever I think may be said by me, 
For the general tells us the word is free. 


SERGEANT. 


True — that he said so I fully agree, 

I was standing by. “The word is free— 
The deed is dumb — obedience blind !” 
His very words I can call to mind. 


FIRST YAGER. 


I know not if these were his words or no, 
But he said the thing, and ’tis even so. 


SECOND YAGER. 


Victory ne’er will his flag forsake, 

Though she’s apt from others a turn to take: 
Old Tilly outlived his fame’s decline, 

But under the banner of Wallenstein, 

There am I certain that victory’s mine! 


392 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


Fortune is spell-bound to him, and must yield ; 
Whoe’er under Friedland shall take the field 
Is sure of a supernatural shield: 

For, as all the world is aware full well, 

The duke has a devil in hire from hell. 


SERGEANT. 


In truth that he’s charmed is past a doubt, 

For we know how, at Liitzen’s bloody affair, 
Where firing was thickest he still was there, 

As coolly as might be, sirs, riding about. 

The hat on his head was shot thro’ and thro’, 

In coat and boots the bullets that flew 

Left traces full clear to all men’s view; 

But none got so far as to scratch off his skin, 
For the ointment of hell was too well rubbed in. 


FIRST YAGER. 


What wonders so strange can you all see there ? 
An elk-skin jacket he happens to wear, 
And through it the bullets can make no way. 


SERGEANT. 


Tis an ointment of witches’ herbs, I say, 
Kneaded and cooked by unholy spell. 


TRUMPETER. 
No doubt ’tis the work of the powers of hell. 


SERGEANT. 


That he reads in the stars we also hear, 
Where the future he sees — distant or near — 
But I know better the truth of the case: 

A little gray man, at the dead of night, 
Through bolted doors to him will pace — 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 393 


The sentinels oft have hailed the sight, 
And something great was sure to be nigh, 
When this little graycoat had glided by. 


FIRST YAGER. 


Ay, ay, he’s sold himself to the devil, 
Wherefore, my lads, let’s feast and revel. 


Scene VII. 
The above. Recruit, Citizen, Dragoon. 


The Recruit advances from the tent, wearing a tin cap 
on his head, and carrying a wine-flask. 


RECRUIT. 


To father and uncle pray make my bow, 
And bid ’em good-bye — I’m a soldier now. 


FIRST YAGER. 
See, yonder they’re bringing us something new. 


CITIZEN. 
Oh, Franz, remember, this day you'll rue. 


RECRUIT (sings). 

The drum and the fife, 

War's rattling throng, 
And a wandering life 

The world along! 
Swift steed — and a hand 
To curb and command — 
With a blade by the side, 
We're off far and wide. 
As jolly and free, 


394 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


As the finch in its glee, 

On thicket or tree, 

Under heaven’s wide hollow — 
Hurrah! for the Friedlander’s banner I'l] follow! 


SECOND YAGER. 


Foregad! a jolly companion, though. 
[ They salute him. 
CITIZEN. 


He comes of a good kin; now pray let him go. 


FIRST YAGER. 
And we weren’t found in the streets you must know. 


CITIZEN. 


I tell you his wealth is a plentiful stock ; 
Just feel the fine stuff that he wears for a frock. 


TRUMPETER. 
The emperor’s coat is the best he can wear. 


CITIZEN. 
To a cap manufactory he is the heir. 


SECOND YAGER. 
The will of a man is his fortune alone. 


CITIZEN. 
His grandmother’s shop will soon be his own. 


FIRST YAGER. 
Pish! traffic in matches! who would do’t 2 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 395 


CITIZEN. 


A wine-shop his grandfather leaves, to boot, 
A cellar with twenty casks of wine. 


TRUMPETER. 
These with his comrades he’ll surely share. 


SECOND YAGER. 
Hark ye, lad — be a camp-brother of mine. 


CITIZEN. 
A bride he leaves sitting, in tears, apart. 


FIRST YAGER. 
Good — that now’s a proof of an iron heart. 


CITIZEN. 
His grandmother’s sure to die with sorrow. 


SECOND YAGER. 
The better — for then he’ll inherit to-morrow. 


SERGEANT (advances gravely, and lays his hand on the 
Recruit’s tin cap). 


The matter no doubt you have duly weighed, 
And here a new man of yourself have made ; 
With hanger and helm, sir, you now belong 
To a nobler and more distinguished throng. 
Thus, a loftier spirit ’twere well to uphold — 


FIRST YAGER. 
And, especially, never be sparing of gold. 


396 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SERGEANT. 


In Fortune’s ship, with an onward gale, 

My friend, you have made up your mind to sail. 

The earth-ball is open before you — yet there 

Naught’s to be gained, but by those who dare. 

Stupid and sluggish your citizen’s found, 

Like a dyer’s dull jade, in his ceaseless round, 

While the soldier can be whatever he will, 

For war o’er the earth is the watchword still. 

Just look now at me, and the coat I wear, 

You see that the emperor’s baton I bear — 

And all good government, over the earth, 

You must know from the baton alone has birth ; 

For the sceptre that’s swayed by the kingly hand — 

Is naught but a baton, we understand. 

And he who has corporal’s rank obtained, 

Stands on the ladder where all’s to be gained, | 
And you, like another, may mount to that height — | 


FIRST YAGER. 
Provided you can but read and write. 


SERGEANT. 


Now, hark to an instance of this from me, 
And one which I’ve lived myself to see: 
There’s Butler, the chief of dragoons, why he, | 
Whose rank was not higher a whit than mine, : 
Some thirty years since, at Cologne on Rhine, 
Is a major-general now — because 

He put himself forward and gained applause ; 

Filling the world with his martial fame, 

While slept my merits without a name. 

And even the Friedlander’s self — I’ve heard — 

Our general and all-commanding lord, 

Who now can do what he will at a word, 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 397 


Had at first but a private squire’s degree ; 

In the goddess of war yet trusting free, 

He reared the greatness which now you see, 
And, after the emperor, next is he. 

Who knows what more he may mean or get ? 
(Slyly.) For all-day’s evening isn’t come yet. 


FIRST YAGER. 


He was little at first, though now so great — 

For at Altorf, in student’s gown he played, 

By your leave, the part of a roaring blade, 

And rattled away at a queerish rate. 

His fag he had well-nigh killed by a blow, 

And their Nur’mberg worships swore he should go 

To jail for his pains — if he liked it or no. 

"Twas a new-built nest to be christened by him 

Who first should be lodged. Well, what was his 
whim ? 

Why, he sent his dog forward to lead the way, 

And they call the jail from the dog to this day. 

That was the game a brave fellow should play, 

And of all the great deeds of the general, none 

Fer tickled my fancy, like this one. 
[During this speech the Second Yager has begun 

toying with the girl who has been in warting. 


“DRAGOON (stepping between them). 
Comrade — give over this sport, I pray. 


SECOND YAGER. 
Why, who the devil shall say me nay ! 


DRAGOON. 
I’ve only to tell you the girl’s my own. 


398 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 


Such a morsel as this for himself alone ! — 
Dragoon, why say, art thou crazy grown ? 


SECOND YAGER. 


In the camp to be keeping a wench for one! 
No! the light of a pretty girl’s face must fall, 
Like the beams of the sun, to gladden us all. 
[Kisses her. 
DRAGOON (tears her away). 


I tell you again, that it sha’n’t be done. 


FIRST YAGER. 


The pipers are coming, lads! now for fun ! 


SECOND YAGER (to Dragoon). 
I sha’n’t be far off, should you look for me. 


SERGEANT. 
Peace, my good fellows! —a kiss goes free. 


ScENE VIII. 


Enter Miners, and play a waltz —at first slowly, and 
afterward quicker. The First Yager dances with 
the girl, the Sutler-woman with the Recrwit. The 
girl springs away, and the Yager, pursuing her, 
seizes hold of a Capuchin Friar gust entering. 


CAPUCHIN. 


Hurrah ! halloo! tol, lol, de rol, le! 
The fun’s at its height! I'll not be away! 
Is’t an army of Christians that join in such works? 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 399 


Or are we all turned Anabaptists and Turks ? 

Is the Sabbath a day for this sport in the land, 

As though the great God had the gout in his hand, 

And thus couldn’t smite in the midst of your band ? 

Say, is this a time for your revelling shouts, 

For your banquetings, feasts, and holiday bouts ? 

Quid hire statis otiosi ? declare 

Why, folding your arms, stand ye lazily there ? 

While the furies of war on the Danube now fare, 

And Bavaria’s bulwark is lying full low, 

And Ratisbon’s fast in the clutch of the foe. 

Yet, the army lies here in Bohemia still, 

And caring for naught, so their paunches they fill 

Bottles far rather than battles you'll get, 

And your bills than your broadswords more readily 
wet ; 

With the wenches, I ween, is your dearest concern, 

And you’d rather roast oxen than Oxenstiern. 

In sackcloth and ashes while Christendom’s grieving, 

No thought has the soldier his guzzle of leaving. 

"Tis a time of misery, groans, and tears! 

Portentous the face of the heavens appears! 

And forth from the clouds behold blood-red, 

The Lord’s war mantle is downward spread — 

While the comet is thrust as a threatening rod, 

From the window of heaven by the hand of God. 

The world is but one vast house of woe, 

The ark of the church stems a bloody flow. 

The Holy Empire — God help the same ! — 

Has wretchedly sunk to a hollow name. 

The Rhine’s gay stream has a gory gleam, 

The cloister’s nests are robbed by roysters ; 

The church-lands now are changed to lurch-lands; 

Abbacies, and all other holy foundations 

Now are but robber-sees — rogues’ habitations. 

And thus is each once-blest German state, 

Deep sunk in the gloom of the desolate ! 


4.00 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


Whence comes all this? Oh, that will I tell — 
It comes of your doings, of sin, and of hell! 

Of the horrible, heathenish lives ye lead, 
Soldiers and officers, all of a breed. 

For sin is the magnet, on every hand, 

That draws your steel throughout the land! 

As the onion causes the tear to flow, 

So vice must ever be followed by woe — 

The W duly succeeds the V, 

This is the order of A, B, C. 

Ubi erit victorwe spes, 

St offenditur Deus ? which says, 

How, pray ye, shall victory e’er come to pass, 
If thus you play truant from sermon and mass, 
And do nothing but lazily loll o’er the glass ? 
The woman, we're told in the Testament, 
Found the penny in search whereof she went. 
Saul met with his father’s asses again, 

And Joseph his precious fraternal train, 

But he, who ’mong soldiers shall hope to see 
God’s fear, or shame, or discipline — he 

From his toil, beyond doubt, will baffled return, 
Though a hundred lamps in the search he burn. 
To the wilderness preacher, th’ Evangelist says, 


The soldiers, too, thronged to repent of their ways, 


And had themselves christened in former days. 
Quid faciemus nos ? they said: 


Toward Abraham’s bosom what path must we tread ? 


Ht art alis, and, said he, 
Neminem concutiatts ; 


From bother and wrongs leave your neighbours free. 


Neque calummam faciatis ; 

And deal nor in slander nor lies, d’ye see ? 
Contenti estote — content ye, pray, 
Stipendis vestris — with your pay — 

And curse for ever each evil way. 

There is a command — thou shalt not utter 


a ee _——— = 


—— ee ee ee eel i 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 401 


The name of the Lord thy God in vain; 

But where is it men most blasphemies mutter ? 

Why, here, in Duke Friedland’s headquarters, ’tis 
plain 

If for every thunder and every blast, 

Which blazing ye from your tongue-points cast, 

The bells were but rung, in the country round, 

Not a bellman, I ween, would there soon be found ; 

And if for each and every unholy prayer 

Which to vent from your jabbering jaws you dare, 

From your noddles were plucked but the smallest 
hair, 

Evry crop would be smoothed ere the sun went 
down, 

Though at morn ’twere as bushy as Absalom’s crown. 

Now, Joshua, methinks, was a soldier as well — 

By the arm of King David the Philistine fell ; 

But where do we find it written, I pray, 

That they ever blasphemed in this villainous way ? 

One would think ye need stretch your jaws no more, 

To cry “God help us!” than “ Zounds!” to roar. 

But, by the liquor that’s poured in the cask, we know 

With what it will bubble and overflow. 

Again, it is written — thou shalt not steal, 

And this you follow, 7 faith! to the letter, 

For open-faced robbery suits ye better. 

The gripe of your vulture claws you fix 

On all —and your wiles and rascally tricks 

Make the gold unhid in our coffers now, 

And the calf unsafe while yet in the cow — 

Ye take both the egg and the hen, I vow. 

Contenti estote — the preacher said ; 

Which means — be content with your army bread. 

But how should the slaves not from duty swerve ? 

The mischief begins with the lord they serve, 

Just like the members so is the head. 

T should like to know who can tell me his creed. 


402 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 


Sir priest, ’gainst ourselves rail on as you will — 
Of the general we warn you to breathe no ull. 


CAPUCHIN. 


Ne custodias gregem meam ! 

An Ahab is he, and a Jerobeam, 

Who the people from faith’s unerring way, 
To the worship of idols would turn astray. 


TRUMPETER and RECRUIT. 
Let us not hear that again, we pray. 


CAPUCHIN. 


Such a Bramarbas, whose iron tooth 

Would seize all the strongholds of earth forsooth ! 
Did he not boast, with ungodly tongue, 

That Stralsund must needs to his grasp be wrung, 
Though to heaven itself with a chain ’twere strung ? 


TRUMPETER. 
Will none put a stop to his slanderous bawl? | 


CAPUCHIN. 


A wizard he is!—and a sorcerer Saul ! — 

Holofernes !—- a Jehu !— denying, we know, 

Like St. Peter, his Master and Lord below; 

And hence must he quail when the cock doth crow — 


BOTH YAGERS. 
Now, parson, prepare; for thy doom is nigh. 


CAPUCHIN. 
A fox more cunning than Herod, I trow — 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 403 


TRUMPETER and both YAGERS (pressing against him). 


Silence, again, —if thou wouldst not die! 


CROATS (interfering). 


Stick to it, father; we'll shield you, ne’er fear ; 
The close of your preachment now let’s hear. 


CAPUCHIN (still lowder). 


A Nebuchadnezzar in towering pride! 

And a vile and heretic sinner beside! 

He calls himself rightly the stone of a wall; 

For, faith! he’s a stumbling-stone to us all. 

And ne’er can the emperor have peace indeed, 

Till of Friedland himself the land is freed. 

[During the last passage, which he pronounces vn 

an elevated vowce, he has been gradually re- 
treating, the Croats keeping the other soldiers 


off: 


ScENE IX. 
The above, without the Capuchin. 


FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant). 


But, tell us, what meant he about chanticleer ; 
Whose crowing the general dares not hear ? 
No doubt it was uttered in spite and scorn. 


SERGEANT. 


Listen — ’tis not so untrue as it appears; 
For Friedland was rather mysteriously born, 
And is ’specially troubled with ticklish ears; 
He can never suffer the mew of a cat; 

And when the cock crows he starts thereat. 


404 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 
He’s one and the same with the lion in that. 


SERGEANT. 


Mouse-still must all around him creep, 
Strict watch in this the sentinels keep, 
For he ponders on matters most grave and deep. 
[ Voices in the tent. A tumult. 
Seize the rascal! lay on! lay on! 


PEASANTS VOICE. 
Help ! — mercy ! — help! 


OTHERS. 
Peace! peace! begone! 


FIRST YAGER. 
Deuce take me, but yonder the swords are out ! 


SECOND YAGER. 


Then I must be off, and see what ’tis about. 
[ Yagers enter the tent. 


SUTLER - WOMAN (comes forward). 
A scandalous villain !—a scurvy thief! 


TRUMPETER. 
Good hostess, the cause of this clamorous grief ? 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


A cut-purse! a scoundrel! the villain I call. 
That the like in my tent should ever befall ! 
I’m disgraced and undone with the officers all. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 405 


SERGEANT. 
Well, coz, what is it ? 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


Why, what should it be ? 
But a peasant they’ve taken just now with me — 
A rogue with false dice, to favour his play. 


TRUMPETER. 
See! they’re bringing the boor and his son this way. 


SCENE X. 
Soldvers, dragging in the Peasant, bound. 


FIRST YAGER. 
He must hang! 
SHARPSHOOTERS and DRAGOONS. 
To the provost, come on ! 


SERGEANT. 
’Tis the latest order that forth has gone. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
In an hour I hope to behold him swinging ! 


SERGEANT. 
Bad work bad wages will needs be bringing. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the others). 


This comes of their desperation. We 
First ruin them out and out, d’ye see; 
Which tempts them to steal, as it seems to me. 


406 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


TRUMPETER. 


How now! the rascal’s cause would you plead ? 
The:cur! the devil is in you indeed! 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
The boor is a man —as a body may say. 


FIRST YAGER (to the Trumpeter). 


Let ’em go! they’re of Tiefenbach’s corps, the railers, 
A glorious train of glovers and tailors! 

At Brieg, in garrison, long they lay ; 

What should they know about camps, I pray ? 


ScENE XI. 


The above. Cuirassiers. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
Peace! what’s amiss with the boor, may I crave ? 


FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. 
He has cheated at play, the cozening knave ! 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught ? 


FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. 


Just cleaned me out — and not left me a groat. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man, 
So shamefully cast yourself away, 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 407 


As to try your luck with the boor at play ? 
Let him run off, so that run he can. 
[Zhe Peasant escapes, the others throng together. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


He makes short work — is of resolute mood — 
And that with such fellows as these is good. 
Who is he? not of Bohemia, that’s clear. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


He’s a Walloon — and respect, I trow, 
Is due to the Pappenheim cuirassier ! 


FIRST DRAGOON (joining). 


Young Piccolomini leads them now, 
Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might, 
When Pappenheim fell in Liitzen’s fight. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
Durst they, indeed, presume so far ? 


FIRST DRAGOON. 


This regiment is something above the rest. 

It has ever been foremost throughout the war, 
And may manage its laws, as it pleases best ; 
Besides, ’tis by Friedland himself caressed. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER (to the Second). 
Ist so in truth, man? Who averred it? 


SECOND CUIRASSIER. 
From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it. 


408 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
The devil! we’re not their dogs, I ween! 


FIRST YAGER. 
How now, what’s wrong? You're swollen with spleen! 


SECOND YAGER. 


Is it anything, comrades, may us concern ? 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


"Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn. 

[Zhe Soldiers press round him. 
To the Netherlands they would lend us now — 
Cuirassiers, Yagers, and Shooters away, 
Eight thousand in all must march, they say. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
What! What ! again the old wandering way — 
I got back from Flanders but yesterday ! 


SECOND CUIRASSIER (to the Dragoons). 


ae See 


You of Butler’s corps must tramp with the rest. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
Why, of all our squadrons these are the best. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
To march where that Milanese fellow leads on. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 
The infant ? that’s queer enough in its way. 


SECOND YAGER. 
The priest — then, egad ! there’s the devil to pay. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Shall we then leave the Friedlander’s train, 

Who so nobly his soldiers doth entertain — 

And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain! 
A niggard whom we in our souls disdain ! 

That'll never go down — I’m off, I swear. 


TRUMPETER. 


Why, what the devil should we do there ? 
We sold our blood to the emperor — ne’er 
For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare! 


SECOND YAGER. 


On the Friedlander’s word and credit alone 
We ranged ourselves in the trooper line, 
And, but for our love to Wallenstein, 
Ferdinand ne’er had our service known. 


FIRST DRAGOON. 


Was it not Friedland that formed our force ? 
His fortune shall still be the star of our course. 


SERGEANT. 


Silence, good comrades, to me give ear — 
Talking does little to help us here. 

Much farther in this I can see than you all, 
And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall. 


409 


410 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER. 
List to the order-book ! hush — be still! 


SERGEANT. 


But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill 
A glass of Melneck, as my stomach’s but weak: 
When I’ve tossed it off, my mind I’ll speak. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


Take it, good sergeant. I quake for fear — 
Think you that mischief is hidden here ? 


SERGEANT. 


Look ye, my friends, ’tis fit and clear 

That each should consider what’s most near. 

But as the general says, say I, 

One should always the whole of a case descry. 

We call ourselves all the Friedlander’s troops ; 
The burgher, on whom were billeted, stoops 

Our wants to supply, and cooks our soups. 

His ox, or his horse, the peasant must chain 

To our baggage-car, and may grumble in vain. 
Just let a lance-corp’ral, with seven good men, 
Tow’rd a village from far but come within ken, 
You're sure he'll be prince of the place, and may 
Cut what capers he will, with unquestioned sway. 
Why, zounds! lads, they heartily hate us all — 
And would rather the devil should give them a call, 
Than our yellow collars. And why don’t they fall 
On us fairly at once and get rid of our lumber ? 
They’re more than our match in point of number, 
And carry the cudgel as we do the sword. 

Why can we laugh them to scorn? By my word, 
Because we make up here a terrible horde. 


Se a NS a A SNS ee ee en ee a ay ae ee ee 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP All 


FIRST YAGER. 


Ay, ay, in the mass lies the spell of our might, 
And the Friedlander judged the matter aright, 
When, some eight or nine years ago, he brought 
The emperor’s army together. They thought 
Twelve thousand enough for the general. In vain, 
Said he, such a force I can never maintain. 

Sixty thousand I'll bring ye into the plain, 

And they, Pll be sworn, won’t of hunger die. 

And thus were we Wallenstein’s men, say I. 


SERGEANT. 


For example, cut one of my fingers off, 

This little one here from my right hand doff. 

Is the taking my finger then all you’ve done? 
No, no, to the devil my hand is gone! 

"Tis a stump — no more — and use has none. 
The eight thousand horse they wish to disband 
May be but a finger of our army’s hand. 

But when they’re once gone may we understand 
We are but one-fifth the less? Oh, no — 

By the Lord, the whole to the devil will go! 
All terror, respect, and awe will be over, 

And the peasant will swell his crest once more ; 
And the Board of Vienna will order us where 
Our troops must be quartered and how we must fare, 
As of old in the days of their beggarly care. 
Yes, and how long it will be who can say 

Ere the general himself they may take away ? 
For they don’t much like him at court I learn. 
And then it’s all up with the whole concern! 
For who, to our pay, will be left to aid us, 

And see that they keep the promise they made us ? 
Who has the energy — who the mind — 

The flashing thought — and the fearless hand — 
Together to bring, and thus fastly bind, 


412 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


The fragments that form our close-knit band ? 
For example, dragoon — just answer us now, 
From which of the countries of earth art thou ? 


DRAGOON. 
From distant Erin came I here. 


SERGEANT (to the two Cuwrassters). 


You're a Walloon, my friend, that’s clear, 
And you, an Italian, as all may hear. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Who I may be, faith! I never could say ; 
In my infant years they stole me away. 


SERGEANT. , 
And you, from what far land may you be? : 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
I come from Buchau — on the Feder Sea. 


SERGEANT. . 
Neighbour, and you ? 


SECOND ARQUEBUSIER. 


T am a Swiss. 


SERGEANT (40 the Second Yager). 
And Yager, let’s hear where your country is? 


SECOND YAGER. 
Up above Wismar my fathers dwell. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


SERGEANT ( pointing to the Trumpeter). 


And he’s from Eger —and I as well: 

And now, my comrades, [ ask you whether, 
Would any one think, when looking at us, 
That we, from the North and South, had thus 
Been hitherward drifted and blown together ? 
Do we not seem as hewn from one mass ? 
Stand we not close against the foe 

As though we were glued or moulded so ? 
Like mill-work don’t we move, d’ye think! 
"Mong ourselves in the nick, at a word or wink. 
Who has thus cast us here all as one, 

Now to be severed again by none ? 

Who? why, no other than Wallenstein! 


FIRST YAGER. 


In my life it ne’er was a thought of mine 
Whether we suited each other or not, 
I let myself go with the rest of the lot. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


I quite agree in the sergeant’s opinion — 
They’d fain have an end of our camp dominion, 
And trample the soldier down, that they 

May govern alone in their own good way. 

Tis a conspiration — a plot, I say ! 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


A conspiration — God help the day! 
Then my customers won't have cash to pay. 


SERGEANT. 


Why, faith, we shall all be bankrupts made ; 
The captains and generals, most of them, paid 
The costs of the regiments with private cash, 


413 


414 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


And, wishing, ’bove all, to cut a dash, 

Went a little beyond their means — but thought, 
No doubt, that they thus had a bargain bought. 
Now they’ll be cheated, sirs, one and all, 

Should our chief, our head, the general fall. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 


Oh, heaven! this curse I never can brook! 
Why, half of the army stand in my book. 
Two hundred dollars P’'ve trusted madly 
That Count Isolani who pays so badly. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Well, comrades, let’s fix on what’s to be done — 
Of the ways to save us, I see but one; | 
If we hold together we need not fear ; 

So let us stand out as one man here ; 

And then they may order and send as they will, 
Fast planted we'll stick in Bohemia still. 

Well never give in — no, nor march an inch, 
We stand on our honour, and must not flinch. 


SECOND YAGER. 


We're not to be driven the country about, 
Let ’em come here, and they'll find it out. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


Good sirs, ’twere well to bethink ye still, 
That such is the emperor’s sovereign will. 


TRUMPETER. 
Oh, as to the emperor, we needn’t be nice. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
Let me not hear you say so twice. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 415 


TRUMPETER. 
Why, ’tis even so— as I just have said. 


FIRST YAGER. 


True, man — I’ve always heard ’em say, 
‘Tis Friedland, alone, you’ve here to obey. 


SERGEANT. 


By our bargain with him it should be so, 
Absolute power in his, you must know. 
We've war, or peace, but as he may please, 
Or gold or goods he has power to seize, 
And hanging or pardon his will decrees. 
Captains and colonels he makes — and he, 
In short, by the imperial seal is free, 

To hold all the marks of sovereignty. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


The duke is high and of mighty will, 
But yet must remain, for good or for ill, 
Like us all, but the emperor’s servant still 


SERGEANT. 


Not like us all —I there disagree — 

Friedland is quite independent and free, 

The Bavarian is no more a prince than he, 

For, was I not by myself to see, 

When on duty at Brandeis, how the emperor said, 
He wished him to cover his princely head ? 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


That was because of the Mecklenburg land, 
Which he held in pawn from the emperor’s hand. 


416 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant). 


In the emperor’s presence, man! say you so? 
That, beyond doubt, was a wonderful go! 


SERGEANT (feels im his pocket). 


If you question my word in what I have told, 
I can give you something to grasp and hold. 

Showing a coin. 
Whose image and stamp d’ye here behold ? 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
Oh! that is a Wallenstein’s, sure! 


SERGEANT - MAJOR. 


Well, there, you have it — what doubt can rest, 
Is he not prince, just as good as the best ? 

Coins he not money like Ferdinand ? 

Hath he not his own subjects and land ? 

Is he not called your highness, I pray ? 

And why should he not have his soldiers in pay ? 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


That no one has ever meant to gainsay ; 
But we're still at the emperor’s beck and call, 
For his majesty ’tis who pays us all. 


TRUMPETER. 


In your teeth I deny it —and will again — 
His majesty ’tis who pays us not, 

For this forty weeks, say, what have we got 
But a promise to pay, believed in vain ? 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
What then! ’tis kept in safe hands, I suppose. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 417 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Peace, good sirs, will you come to blows? 
Have you a quarrel and squabble to know 

If the emperor be our master or no ? 

"Tis because of our rank, as his soldiers brave, 
That we scorn the lot of the herded slave ; 
And will not be driven from place to place, 
As priest or puppies our path may trace. 
And, tell me, is’t not the sovereign’s gain, 

If the soldiers their dignity will maintain ? 
Who but his soldiers give him the state 

Of a mighty, wide-ruling potentate ? 

Make and preserve for him, far and near, 

The voice which Christendom quakes to hear ? 
Well enough they may his yoke-chain bear, 
Who feast on his favours, and daily share, 

In golden chambers, his sumptuous fare. 

We — we of his splendours have no part, 
Naught but hard wearying toil and care, 
And the pride that lives in a soldier’s heart. 


SECOND YAGER. 


All great tyrants and kings have shown 

Their wit, as I take it, in what they’ve done ; 
They’ve trampled all others with stern command, 
But the soldier they’ve led with a gentle hand. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


The soldier his worth must understand 
Whoe’er doesn’t nobly drive the trade, 
’"Twere best from the business far he’d stayed. 
If I cheerily set my life on a throw, 
Something still better than life [ll know; 

Or I'l) stand to be slain for the paltry pelf, 
As the Croat still does — and scorn myself 


418 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


BOTH YAGERS. 


Yes — honour is dearer than life itself. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


The sword is no plough, nor delving tool, 

He, who would till with it, is but a fool. 

For us, neither grass nor grain doth grow, 
Houseless the soldier is doomed to go, 

A changeful wanderer over the earth, 

Ne’er knowing the warmth of a home-lit hearth. 
The city glances — he halts — not there — 
Nor in village meadows, so green and fair ; 
The vintage and harvest wreath are twined, 
He sees, but must leave them far behind. 
Then, tell me, what hath the soldier left, 

If he’s once of his self-esteem bereft ? 
Something he must have his own to call, 

Or on slaughter and burnings at once he'll fall. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
God knows, ’tis a wretched life to live! © 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Yet one, which I, for no other would give. 

Look ye — far round in the world I’ve been, 

And all of its different service seen. 

The Venetian Republic — the Kings of Spain 
And Naples I’ve served, and served in vain. 
Fortune still frowned — and merchant and knight, 
Craftsman and Jesuit, have met my sight ; 

Yet, of all their jackets, not one have I known 

To please me like this steel coat of my own. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 
Well — that now is what I can scarcely say. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


In the world, a man who would make his way, 
Must plague and bestir himself night and day. 
To honour and place if he choose the road, 

He must bend his back to the golden load. 
And if home delights should his fancy please, 
With children and grandchildren round his knees, 
Let him follow an honest trade in peace. 

I’ve no taste for this kind of life — not I! 

Free will I live, and as freely die. 

No man’s spoiler nor heir will I be — 

But, throned on my nag, I will smile to see 
The coil of the crowd that is under me. 


FIRST YAGER. 
Bravo ! — that’s as I’ve always done. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun 
To trample thus over your neighbour’s crown. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Comrade, the times are bad of late — 

The sword and the scales live separate. 

But do not then blame that [ve preferred, 

Of the two, to lean, as I have, to the sword. 
For mercy in war I will yield to none, 

Though I never will stoop to be drummed upon. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER. 


Who but the soldier the blame should bear 

That the labouring poor so hardly fare ? 

The war with its plagues, which all have blasted, 
Now sixteen years in the land hath lasted. 


419 


420 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Why, brother, the blessed God above 

Can’t have from us all an equal love. 

One prays for the sun, at which t’other will fret ; 
One is for dry weather — t’other for wet. 

What you, now, regard as with misery rife, 

Is to me the unclouded sun of life. 

If ’tis at the cost of the burgher and boor, 

I really am sorry that they must endure ; 

But how can I help it? Here, you must know, 
Tis just like a cavalry charge ’gainst the foe: 
The steeds loud snorting, and on they go! 
Whoever may lie in the mid-career — 

Be it my brother or son so dear, 

Should his dying groan my heart divide, 

Yet over his body I needs must ride, 

Nor pitying stop to drag him aside. 


FIRST YAGER. 
True — who ever asks how another may bide ? 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Thus, my lads, ’tis my counsel, while 

On the soldier Dame Fortune deigns to smile, 
That we with both hands her bounty clasp, 

For it may not be much longer left to our grasp. 
Peace will be coming some over-night, 

And then there’s an end of our martial might. 
The soldier unhorsed, and fresh mounted the boor, 
Ere you can think it ’twill be as before. 

As yet we're together firm bound in the land, 
The hilt is yet fast in the soldier’s hand. 

But let ’°em divide us, and soon we shall find 
Short commons is all that remains behind. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 421 


FIRST YAGER. 


No, no, by the Lord! that won’t do for me. 
Come, come, lads, let’s all now, as one, agree. 


SECOND YAGER. 
Yes, let us resolve on what ’tis to be. 


FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the Sutler-woman, drawing out 
his leather purse). 


Hostess, tell us how high you’ve scored. 


SUTLER - WOMAN. 
Oh, ’tis unworthy a single word. [They settle. 


TRUMPETER. 


You do well, sirs, to take a further walk, 
Your company only disturbs our talk. 
[Hxeunt Arquebusiers. 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 
Plague take the fellows — they’re brave, I know. 


FIRST YAGER. 
They haven't a soul ’bove a soapboiler’s, though. 


SECOND YAGER. 


We're now alone, so teach us who can 
How best we may meet and mar their plan. 


TRUMPETER. 
How? Why, let’s tell them we will not go! 


422 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Despising all discipline! no, my lads, no, 
Rather his corps let each of us seek, 

And quietly then with his comrades speak, 
That every soldier may clearly know, 

It were not for his good so far to go. 

For my Walloons to answer I’m free, 
Every man of ’em thinks and acts with me. 


SERGEANT. 


The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot, 
Will thus resolve, and will keep them to’t. 


SECOND CUIRASSIER (jouning the first). 
The Walloons and the Lombards one intent. 


FIRST YAGER. 
Freedom is Yagers’ own element. 


SECOND YAGER. 


Freedom must ever with might entwine — 
I live and will die by Wallenstein. 


FIRST SHARPSHOOTER. 


The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide, 
Where spirits are light and courage tried. 


DRAGOON. 
An Irishman follows his fortune’s star. 


SECOND SHARPSHOOTER. 


The Tyrolese for their sovereign war. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 423 


FIRST CUIRASSIER. 


Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree 
A pro memorié to sign — that we, 

In spite of all force or fraud, will be 

To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound, 
For in him is the soldier’s father found. 
This we will humbly present, when done, 
To Piccolomini — I mean the son — 

Who understands these kind of affairs, 
And the Friedlander’s highest favour shares ; 
Besides, with the emperor’s self, they say 
He holds a capital card to play. 


SECOND YAGER. 


Well, then, in this, let us all agree, 
That the colonel shall our spokesman be! 


ALL (gowng). 
Good ! the colonel shall our spokesman be. 


SERGEANT. 


Hold, sirs — just toss off a glass with me 
To the health of Piccolomini. 


SUTLER - WOMAN (brings a flask). 


This shall not go to the list of scores, 
I gladly give it — success be yours! 


CUIRASSIER. 
The soldier shall sway! 


BOTH YAGERS. 
The peasant shall pay ! 


424 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


DRAGOON and SHARPSHOOTERS. 
The army shall flourishing stand! 


TRUMPETER and SERGEANT. 
And the Friedlander keep the command ! 


SECOND CUIRASSIER (sings). 


Arouse ye, my comrades, to horse! to horse! 
To the field and to freedom we guide! 
For there a man feels the pride of his force 
And there is the heart of him tried. 
No help to him there by another is shown, 
He stands for himself and himself alone. 
[The Soldiers from the background have come for- 
ward during the singing of this verse and 
form the chorus. 


Chorus. 


No help to him by another is shown, 
He stands for himself and himself alone. 


DRAGOON. 


Now freedom hath fled from the world, we find 
But lords and their bondsmen vile: 

And nothing holds sways in the breast of mankind 
Save falsehood and cowardly guile. 

Who looks in death’s face with a fearless brow, 

The soldier, alone, is the freeman now. 


Chorus. 


Who looks in death’s face with a fearless brow, 
The soldier, alone, is the freeman now. 


WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 425 


FIRST YAGER. 


With the troubles of life he ne’er bothers his pate, 
And feels neither fear nor sorrow ; 

‘But boldly rides onward to meet with his fate — 
He may meet it to-day, or to-morrow ! 

And, if to-morrow ’twill come, then, I say, 

Drain we the cup of life’s joy to-day! 


Chorus. 


And, if to-morrow ’twill come, then, I say, 
Drain we the cup of life’s joy to-day! 
[The glasses are here refilled, and all drink. 


SERGEANT. 


Tis from heaven his jovial lot has birth ; 
Nor needs he to strive or toil. 
The peasant may grope in the bowels of earth, 
And for treasure may greedily moil: 
He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, 
And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself. 


Chorus. 


He digs and he delves through life for the pelf, 
And digs till he grubs out a grave for himself. 


FIRST YAGER. 


The rider and lightning steed — a pair 
Of terrible guests, I ween ! 

From the bridal-hall, as the torches glare, 
Unbidden they join the scene ; 

Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove ; 

By storm he carries the prize of love! 


‘ 


426 WALLENSTEIN’S CAMP 


Chorus. 


Nor gold, nor wooing, his passion prove ; 
By storm he carries the prize of love! 


SECOND CUIRASSIER. 


Why mourns the wench with so sorrowful face ? 
Away, girl, the soldier must go! 
No spot on the earth is his resting-place ; 
And your true love he never can know. 
Still onward driven by fate’s rude wind, 
He nowhere may leave his peace behind. 


Chorus. 


Still onward driven by fate’s rude wind, 
He nowhere may leave his peace behind. 


FIRST YAGER. 


He takes the two next to him by the hand — the others 
do the same — and form a large semicircle. 


Then rouse ye, my comrades — to horse! to horse! 
In battle the breast doth swell! 

Youth boils — the life-cup foams in its force — 
Up! ere time can dew dispel ! 

And deep be the stake, as the prize is high — 

Who life would win, he must dare to die! 


Chorus. 


And deep be the stake, as the prize is high ! 
Who life would win, he must dare to die! 
[The curtain falls before the chorus has finished. 


THE END. 


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URBANA 


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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


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